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ROBERT KANE’S 
SCHOOLDAYS 


The First of Four Books Narrating 
the Life of Robert Kane 


BY 

FRED. J. KINNEY ^ 

J n 


BUFFALO, N. Y. 

Union and Times Press 





PREFACE 


My dear Readers: 

When you have finished reading my efforts to amuse 
you, you will probably lay my work aside and exclaim to 
yourself, that I have a very vivid imagination. Such is not 
the fact. Every one of the characters that I have depicted 
to you, really and truly exist, or did at the time of which 
I have written. Robert Kane, his father, Frank Grace, 
Clarence Murphy, Billie Burke, Jacob Steinberg, little 
Jimmie Ryan, and all the others, were truly and honestly 
living characters and, I hope, are to-day well and happy. 
Aunty Mary herself was called to her Maker only a little 
more than a year ago. They all performed just as I have 
told you they did in this book. St. Patrick’s College is 
open this day and, if it be not in the summer time, many 
little lads are having their fun and are studying just as hard 
within its walls, just as my friends had their fun and bent 
over their books. Of course, I have changed the names and 
have disguised the boys so that no one, but we, who know 
each other, will ever recognize any of us. If one of 
Robert’s schoolmates should happen to see himself portrayed 


within these pages, I care not, for he will only smile and 
recall again those four happy years of his life, and he cannot 
feel offended. I have related many things, perhaps, with a 
slight exaggeration and I have often cut down incidents in 
detail, but I did so for my reader’s sake, and not to shield 
my friends. They do not need shielding. All were honor- 
able boys and, I am certain, they are now worthy of our 
esteem and respect. I have made a few minor changes in 
the real surroundings of the home existence of these boys, 
but I did so to make my story a little more interesting to 
you. I hope you like my Bob for, although we have had 
our differences, to-day we are the best of friends. 

The Author. 



CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Chapter I. Introducing Our Hero 9 

Chapter II. The Wreck 24 

Chapter III. Saint Patrick’s 42 

Chapter IV. How Bob Made the Football Team. . 59 

Chapter V. Bob's Trip to Town 75 

Chapter VI. Mr. Kane Visits Bob 86 

Chapter VII. The Football Game 101 

Chapter VIII. The Infirmary 117 

Chapter IX. A Trip Up the Lake 131 

Chapter X. Cross Country 145 

Chapter XI. Christmas Vacation 159 

Chapter XII. Snow-balling 174 

Chapter XIII. Swimming 188 

Chapter XIV. Baseball with St. Thomas' 201 

Chapter XV. The Prize 217 

Chapter XVI. The Championship Game 229 

Chapter XVII. Three More Years at St. Patrick's. . 245 

Chapter XVIII. Bob in His Father's Store 256 


i 
























































































































* I 


























ROBERT KANE’S SCHOOLDAYS 


CHAPTER I. 

INTRODUCING OUR HERO. 

OME on, put it over till I drive it down your 
throat.” 

“I’ll slide it in the groove for you. You couldn’t 
hit it with a telephone pole.” 

“Shoot it and I will show you what I can do to it; you 
big bum.” 

“Here goes,” and with that exclamation, a tall thin youth 
of some fourteen or fifteen years of age, stretched his long 
arm to its full length; twirled it swiftly in the air; bent 
himself in the middle; threw himself forward on one leg, 
and sent a baseball speeding its way towards the other 
speaker. Crack, came the sound as the ball met the end of 
a swinging bat and down the street, helter skelter, went 
several feet chasing after it. 

“That’a boy ! Some kid, eh ! I told you what I’d do, 
if you put the pill where I wanted it. Better look it over, 
if they find it. Be sure that the hide is still wrapped around 
the string. Some day I may show you how to pitch a ball.” 

The last speaker, who is doomed to be our hero, stood 
over the top of a wooden box which had been placed in the 
middle of the street to serve as a “home plate” or base. He, 
like his companion already mentioned, had seen probably 
fourteen summers. He was not tall for his age but was 
broad and well built. His hair, which was thick and black, 
was combed back so that his small cap, which was worn on 




10 


ROBERT KANE’S 


the back and slightly on one side of his head, nearly covered 
jt. His eyes were large and bright and always* seemed to 
have a merry twinkle hidden just under the lashes. His 
nose was short and saucy. His mouth, though firm and 
strong, balanced a confident little smile that continually 
danced in either corner. His rosy cheeks and high fore- 
head gave evidence of robust health and intelligence. His 
general carriage was straight and manly, but he had a 
certain sway to his shoulders that betrayed a careless and 
dormant nature. Taken all in all, you would like him on 
the very first appearance, for he was a typical American 
boy, as he is to be found in most any of our smaller cities. 

We find him in one of the cities of our northeastern 
States, which boasted of about twenty thousand inhabitants. 
Now twenty thousand people seem a very great number 
when we consider them collectively, but it is really not so 
many, when they have lived together for many years under 
the same clouds and skies ; when they have weathered 
together the same storms of troubles and laughed at the 
same pleasures ; when everyone bows and speaks to every- 
one else; when everyone knows the trials, the tribulations 
and the joys of his neighbor ; when all Williams are Bills 
and all Johns are Jacks. The city was prosperous. On 
week days, everyone was very busy in the office, in the 
store, at the shop, or at home. Everyone took part in the 
hustle and the bustle that had made the city famous and the 
inhabitants proud that they resided there. Everything 
flourished. The public buildings, the paved streets and the 
many improvements gave evidence of its prosperity. 

When Robert Kane — this is our hero’s name — was still 
a tiny babe, just learning how to toddle around by himself, 
like a small bird learning to fly, his dear and loving mother 
had been called away by the voice of Divine Providence. 
His father, heart broken at the loss of his beloved wife, for 


SCHOOLDAYS 


11 


a long time paid very little or no attention to his son, until, 
one day, the father’s sister, an elderly spinster, called his 
attention to this fact and reminded him that he still had a 
duty to perform. The result of this conference was that 
the sister came to live with them as the housekeeper and 
undertook the bringing up. of Robert. Poor Aunt ! Little 
did she realize the task before her. She soon became aware, 
however, that she was not the mother and* that she was 
utterly incapable of all that she would desire to be to him. 
She, nevertheless, like the brave woman that she was, stuck 
to her post, and tried very hard to act as such until the 
present time, when she was ready to admit that she had 
failed and was quite willing to turn her charge over to more 
competent masters. The father was one of the successful 
merchants of the city. Shortly after his marriage, he had 
established a wholesale grocery house on the main street 
of the town and, at the present time, his firm was the leading 
enterprise of that particular form of business in that 
district. 

At the time our story opens, Robert wa9 playing in the 
street near his home with several of the neighbors’ children. 
They were giving him what he called batting practice, so 
that his eye would be in trim for the morrow’s game. It 
was the latter part of August and school was not yet opened 
for the new term but he, however, though only fourteen 
years of age, played second base on one of the junior teams 
about town. It was very difficult to get him interested in 
anything but, once his interest was aroused, he gave his 
whole mind, thought, attention and efforts to the object that 
had stirred him. Consequently, he never missed a chance 
to better his ability as a baseball player because he had 
learned to love the game. He was liked by all his playmates 
and was more or less of a leader among them. They would 


12 


ROBERT KANE’S 


do anything at all for him if he would but express his 
desire to them that he wished them to do it. 

“Come on, now,” said Bob, when they had recovered the 
ball and returned it to George Vance, the tall, thin youth 
who had been doing the pitching. “Put it where I’ll beat 
the air this time, or I’ll bench you.” 

“I’ll fool you this time,” replied George, as he smiled and 
showed a fine set of well-formed teeth. “Get up close, 
Fred, and pick them off the bat.” This was said to a little 
short lad of. their own age, who, with a mask over his face 
and a large catcher’s mit upon his left hand, was standing 
stooped and straddled legged directly behind our hero. 

“Oh! go on,” exclaimed Fred Gelispie. “What do you 
think I am ? I don’t want to have the wind knocked out of 
me. I ain’t got no belly pad.” 

“You won’t need a belly pad,” said Bob. “The ball will 
never reach you. I am going to kill the first one that he 
pitches and, then, I will let you bat a while so that I can 
show you how to fool a kid.” 

“You’re always too sure,” replied Fred. “Suppose that 
you should miss one of his fancy curves by a hair ; zippe ; 
a foul tip; my wind gone; Freddie out ; nothing doing.” 

“Suppose, ’’said Bob, “that I should miss one by a hair; 
they ain’t coming fast enough to kill a mosquito. Don’t be 
a kid all your life.” 

“Come on,” yelled George, as he began to wind himself 
into a knot for another delivery of the ball. Whiff, went 
Bob’s bat, and, true to prediction^, he missed it by a hair 
■and, as the ball just tipped the end of his bat, it took a 
downward drop and struck poor Fred just below the knee. 
“Houch,” cried Fred, amid the laughter of his companions, 
and he began to dance around on his uninjured leg. 

“What did I tell you?” he exclaimed, and he threw his 
mit upon the ground. 


SCHOOLDAYS 


13 


“That’s all right,” said Bob. “A belly pad wouldn’t have 
saved your knee. Get me an old cheese box and I will make 
you a pair of shin guards.” 

“Gee!” cried George, “why didn’t you use your glove 
instead of your leg, you big chump. Throw me the ball; 
that’s only one strike.” 

“Wait a minute,” replied Bob. “Let the doctor look 
things over,” and with that remark, he began to rub the spot 
that the ball had struck. While he did so, all the other boys 
came straggling along to the “home plate” and sat them- 
selves down in a long row upon the curb in front of the 
Kane home. After a moment or two, Bob said, as he and 
Fred came over to join them: 

“What’s the matter with you guys? Have you had 
enough? Have I tired you all out? Well, I am satisfied, 
if you are, but I would like to throw you some.” 

“It is too hot to be running all over creation,” said Andy 
Curran. 

“And you, too lazy to think right,” replied George. 

“Gee, fellows, just think, only two more weeks and we’ll 
all be back listening to old grannies and bucking into books,” 
said Tom Hart. 

“It’s little listening or bucking that you do,” laughed 
Andy. 

“Well, I notice that there are one or two others that can 
not brag of over-work in that line,” replied Tom. 

“I’m awfully sorry that George will not be with us this 
year. We will all miss him, won’t we, boys? I suppose, 
when he comes back from boarding-school, he’ll be a swell 
guy and won’t want to chum with any of us poor fish,” 
said Andy. 

“No, I won’t, fellows; honest, I won’t,” replied George. 
“I don’t want to go, but father and mother are set on it and 
both say that I must. You know that I am going to be a 


14 


ROBERT KANE’S 


lawyer, and they want me to start right at the beginning. 
They tell me that I am about to make my beginning now, 
even though I am only a kid. You fellows should start 
something, too. At least, they say so; and they know.” 

“Well,” said Bob, “I would like, to go away to school but 
I don’t believe that I ever can. I am too cussed mean. 
Father says that if he gets any more reports from Miss 
Chaplin concerning my cutting up, he is going to make me 
go to work in the store jacking boxes around with the rest 
of the rough-necks ; that I am getting too big to be loafing 
and wasting time. Aunt Mary says so, too. I really don’t 
kilOw what I would like to be, when I grow up ; but I would 
like to have a college education.” 

“Why don’t you be a baseball player ; you would surely 
make good at that,” asked one of them. 

“I don’t want to be a baseball player. Father says that 
that is all I am good for ; 1 can catch, and throw, and bat, 
and tire myself out doing such rubbish; but, if I am asked 
to learn a little good sense or to mow the lawn, I am too 
tired to do it even before I Start. Well, I like to play base- 
ball, and I don’t like to mow lawns. Yet I do it and don’t 
kick. Of course, I never do it until I am told because I am 
satisfied with it 'until dad is not.” 

Just then a very pleasant-faced, stout, elderly lady pre- 
sented herself on the front porch of the Kane home, and 
called in a very gentle manner : 

“Robert, come here a minute, please.” 

Immediately, Bob left his companions and, with his slow, 
lazy stride, approached her where she stood. “Well, 
Aunty?” 

“Here is a note which I wish you to take to your father. 
He is expecting it as quickly as possible ; so hurry along. I 
have phoned him that you are leaving at once.” 


SCHOOLDAYS 


15 


“All right, Aunty. How about an apple before I start? 
I'll get it.” 

“You never fail to think of that stomach of yours, do 
you? Well, a boy of your age should eat a lot. Sure, go 
get one for yourself and treat the boys with whom you were 
playing. I have only milk enough for supper or I might do 
better by you.” 

“Apples are good enough for those duffers. I’ll bring 
them each one.” 

After Bob had returned and tossed an apple to each of 
his playmates, he excused himself with the usual boyish 
“so long,” and began his journey to his father’s store, having 
the note safely concealed in one pocket and an extra apple 
stored away in another. He had not proceeded more than 
a couple of blocks from his home, when he noticed ap- 
proaching him along the sidewalk two young boys of about 
his own age. He recognized them, at once, as Alex 
Thompson and Bert Morris, of the opposite side of the city. 
Now Alex, in his own section, was about the same as Bob 
was in his. Alex, however, was not the same manly boy 
that Bob was, nor did he possess the same noble spirit, and, 
on several occasions, he had been so mean towards our hero, 
that blows had been prevented only by the interference of 
friends of either the one or the other. When they drew 
close, Bob had just begun to sink his teeth into the apple 
that he had so ably managed to hide in his pocket without 
the knowledge of his dear Aunty. But, in passing each 
other, in fun or in meanness, Alex slapped it from the hand 
of Bob, and it went rolling out into the street. The lad’s 
resentment was on fire in a flash, and he struck Alex a| 
stunning blow in the face. In a twinkle, both boys locked in 
each other’s arms, swayed to and fro across the sidewalk. 
Bert watched them for a minute; then, wishing to be of 
some assistance to his friend, he tried to trip our Bob with 


16 


ROBERT KANE’S 


his foot, and, at the same time, he gave him a shove with 
both hands. Bob had too strong a hold around the shoulders 
of Alex to be so easily put to a disadvantage, and, as he 
fell to the walk, he carried his enemy down with him. 
Immediately they began to roll over and over until they fell 
to the gutter with Bob sitting on the gasping form of his 
opponent. An elderly lady, about to pass, began to cry and 
call for some one to separate the boys. A gentleman came 
rushing up to them from the other side of the street, and 
roughly pulled Bob to his feet just as he, in his anger, was 
about to pummel the face of the other lad. Alex scrambled 
up in a hurry. 

“What is the trouble with you two young men?” said the 
gentleman. “You should both be ashamed of yourselves; 
beating one another up in the street with angry blows ; at 
your age, too; a disgrace to yourselves and to your 
families.” 

Bob stood by, but said not a word. He kept a steady 
and furious gaze upon his late adversary. 

“It is all his fault,” cried Alex, half ready to weep; “he 
hit me in the face first.” 

“I can settle my own affairs with this bum,” said Bob, 
“without any further interference on your part.” 

“Easy, Bob,” said the gentleman, upon recognizing both 
of the assailants. “Don’t provoke any further enmity. I 
am surprised at you both; gentlemen of your standing; 
what would your fathers say? Bob, look at your clothing; 
it is ruined ; how could either of you do such a thing?” 

“I am not sorry,” replied Bob. “I’d do it again and will 
finish it out now, if this guy wishes to do so. I’ll bust his 
bean.” 

“Steady, Bob,” said the gentleman. 

“He can’t do it,” exclaimed Alex. “I’ll give him all the 


SCHOOLDAYS 


17 


chance he wants. If he, or anyone else, hits me in the face, 
I’ll fight him every time.” 

“Surely, Alex, he didn’t deliberately hit you in the face 
without sufficient reason, did he ?” asked the gentleman. 

“Yes, he did,” lied Alex. “I will leave it to Bert, if he 
didn’t.” 

Bert squirmed a little and then began to walk slowly 
away, but the elderly lady, who had called for help, now 
walked quietly up to the party near the curb, and said : 

“Mister, I saw all that happened. It was I who called 
you over to them. This young man was eating an apple as 
he was about to pass these two other young men ; this one,” 
pointing to Alex, “struck the apple from this one’s hand,” 
pointing in turn to Bob, “and then the two began fighting 
like two angry rats. I don’t blame this young man one bit 
for what he did; but this one,” pointing again to Alex, 
“deserves a good whipping and, if I were his mother, I 
would give it to him.” 

“Thank you, ma’am,” said the gentleman, “I knew that 
something beyond the ordinary must have provoked Bob 
to enter him into a common street brawl. Although he is 
a natural born fighter, I have never known him to fight for 
the love of it. Generally his trouble is that he cannot resist 
the temptation of fighting for others, who may not be as 
strong or as clever with their fists. I shall see that this is 
the end of this struggle, and I thank you again, ma’am.” 

With this, the elderly lady went on her way, looking back 
occasionally, however, to watch how the young men took 
the lecture which their peace-maker could not refrain from 
giving to them. On her third or fourth turn, she was 
amazed to hear a very loud laugh escape the mouth of Alex, 
and she saw him put his fingers to the tip of his long nose, 
and he and his companion, Bert, dash pell-mell up the 
street. The gentleman only smiled, as he shook his head 


18 


ROBERT KANE’S 


gently, as much as to say that, some day, that laugh and 
those fingers and nose would bring trouble to their owner. 
He said nothing but turned and patted Bob on the back. 

“Bob, always be ready and willing to fight for right and 
principle, but be more careful in the future.” 

“I did nothing,” said Bob, “that I would not do again, 
and I wish that you had let us finish it out right here. I’ll 
get him again, some time.” 

“No, Bob, don’t get him, For your father’s sake, shun 
him. Let the matter drop. Look at your clothes; let me 
help you dust them off. Now, promise me that you will look 
for no further trouble.” 

“All right, sir; I promise.” 

“That’s right, my boy. Now, good day, Bob. Be a 
man.” 

“Good day, sir.” 

As Bob continued on his journey towards the business 
section of the city, he became, little by little, more eased of 
mind and peaceful spirited. The merry twinkle gradually 
returned to his bright eyes and the hidden smile began again 
to play in the corners of his firmly pressed lips. The dirt 
and dust, still matted on his lately tidy suit, gave him no 
concern whatever. He very gentlemanly tipped his cap to 
the ladies who bowed to him, and called a “howdy” to each 
male salute, as if the world had ever been all kindness to 
him. But the day had still another excitement in store for 
him. He had just turned into the main street of the city, 
when the dong of the great fire bell came resounding down 
between the tall buildings, and immediately his warm blood 
went rushing to his head. He forgot that there was any- 
thing else in the world, as he stopped to count the strokes 
and thus determine the signal. While he stood there count- 
ing, to cap the climax, a fire engine whirled around a corner 
of the block below, and began its wild dash up the avenue. 


SCHOOLDAYS 


19 


It made no difference to Bob, if he had a thousand letters 
to deliver, he could not withstand this temptation. Off 
came his cap and, swinging it at his side, he, too, raced 
speedily in the trail of the black smoke, hollering, “fire, 
fire,” as if, like Paul Revere, he wished to warn the nation 
of a calamity that none but he was aware of. If he had 
not, this story might never have been written. His race 
took him in just the opposite direction to that of his father’s 
store. At last, he came to the hydrant at which the engine 
had by this time stopped, and was now chuck-chucking as it 
forced the water along through the great hose. In and out 
among the spectators he shoved his way until he was in 
sight of the conflagration, which happened to be an old 
dilapidated barn of no importance, and which the firemen 
had already gotten well under their masterful control. He 
had been watching the “fun” for some time before he 
suddenly remembered that he had not yet delivered his 
father’s message. When he turned again to retrace his 
steps, whom should he see approaching him but Alex 
Thompson, Bert Morris and two or three other boys. He 
did not try to avoid them. 

“Now,” said Alex, with a confident grin upon his lips, 
“do you want to finish something that you once began but 
failed to accomplish?” 

“No,” replied Bob, without a moment’s hesitation, for, 
like a flash, his promise to his friend came to his mind, and 
his hand in his pocket recalled to him that he must be 
hurrying. “No, I don’t wish to fight you.” 

“Coward and liar,” exclaimed Alex. “You are afraid to 
fight, though you boasted that you would give me an oppor- 
tunity to have it out with you.” 

“Well, I’ve changed my mind. Not because I am a 
coward or afraid of you ; you know that I am neither. But, 
for good reasons, I cannot fight with you ; rather, I will not.” 


20 


ROBERT KANE'S 


“Oh ! mush !” replied Alex, and he gave Bob a push that 
sent him backwards several feet. 

“Don’t do that again, Thompson, or else I might be in 
the humor to comply with your wishes, and I really don’t 
like to do so.” 

Alex was about to repeat his action, when a lady came 
hurrying from the veranda of the house nearby, ar.d giving 
him a violent shove, sent him sprawling on the lawn. 

“Get out of here ; all of you ; do you think I want my 
grass ruined?” 

While Alex was picking himself off of the grass and 
seeking safer quarters, Bob, in a manner known only to 
himself, stole his way in among the crowd and was soon on 
his way back to town. 

When he entered his father’s store and had dodged his 
course along between the heavy boxes, bales and barrels, 
and had reached a small office, partitioned off from the 
large department by very thin hoards, he slowly walked into 
the presence of Mr. Kane. 

“How are you, dad?” he shyly said. “Here is a note 
that Aunty asked me to deliver to you.” 

“Ehem ! ehem ! a note you say. Is it possible that you 
have at last arrived? Mercury couldn’t equal you, I do 
declare. Ehem ! where have you been, sir ; and what have 
you been doing all this time? Can you realize that this 
note is just one hour too late to be of any use to me? Don’t 
attempt to excuse your tardiness, sir. Get yourself out 
there in that car and sit in the rear seat. I will join you 
presently. You and I are going to have a very interesting 
conversation, sir, and we will quickly come to an under- 
standing. Hurry, now.” 

Bob looked heartbroken and probably felt it. He was 
very sad because he had again so utterly disappointed his 
father whom he really did desire to please. He loved him 


SCHOOLDAYS 


21 


intensely with a single affection that would have been 
divided between a father and a mother had that other parent 
been spared to him. He felt that he had been a failure and 
that, instead of being a source of pride to him whom he so 
loved, he had been the means of bringing sorrow to him. 
He made no reply when commanded to retire, but did so 
modestly and hurriedly, and was soon comfortably seated 
in the rear seat of his father’s big touring automobile, 
behind the chauffeur. In about ten minutes, which seemed 
an age to Bob, Mr. Kane came rapidly out of his place of 
business and stepped quickly into the auto, and seated 
himself beside his son. “Home,” he said to his man, and 
then turned his gaze, long and earnestly, upon the boy. 
They had speeded several blocks before he said : 

“Ehem ! Now, sir, a report. Where did you go this 
afternoon?” 

“To the fire, dad.” 

“To the fire, eh! Where was it?” 

“On Tremont Street, near Chapel.” 

“It was, eh ! Some distance for a boy to wander, when 
he had a duty to perform. Don’t you think so?” 

“Yes, dad.” 

“Why did you do it, then?” 

“I don’t know, dad. I just went, that’s all. I was alone, 
no one else was with me. I am sorry, dad.” 

“Sorry, eh! sorry. You repeat that upon every occasion 
you give me to reprimand you, which is altogether too often. 
I’m sorry, too; does it improve matters? No, not one bit. 
Is that all that detained you?” 

“All, dad, that kept me any length of time.” 

“Any length of time! What do you mean, sir? Did 
anything else happen on your way to the office ?” 

“Yes, dad, I had a scrap.” 

“A scrap! Speak proper English, boy. A fight, you 


22 


ROBERT KANE'S 


mean. I heard about it ; that ruined suit of clothes tells of 
it. With whom did you fight?” 

“With Alex Thompson.” 

“Alex Thompson! Why, he is larger than you but, I 
believe, not any older. Tell me, Bob, did you beat him 
out ?” 

“No, dad, we were separated ; it was a draw ; but I 
could beat him, if I had not promised that I wouldn’t.” 

“Tut! Don’t be a boaster until you have shown what you 
really can do. However, I will give you credit for being a 
truthful boy. To-night you go to your room as soon as 
you have finished your supper and to-morrow I want to 
see you in my office early in the morning. I am determined 
that you will learn discipline and I have been thinking of a 
method by which I may be sure that you will attain it. I 
will inform you of my plans, when I see you in the morning. 
See that no more fires nor a street brawl keeps you late.” 

“Dad, I sadly accept the punishment of going to my room 
this evening, for I probably deserve it. But, may I ask, am 
I sentenced because of the fire or the fight? If it is the 
fight, I would like to explain to you something about it.” 

“For both, sir. I can find no excuse for my son becoming 
an ordinary disturber of the peace upon every street corner 
in the city. I already have the facts, but will not tolerate 
fighting. Get to your room, when you have finished eating.” 

That night, long after Bob had retired as he was bidden, 
Mr. Kane and his sister Mary sat together in the living room 
of their comfortable home. They had been discussing the 
future of the boy whom they both loved and hoped for. 

“I tell you, Mary, that I do not wish to embarrass you 
nor to belittle the grand efforts that you have made to take 
the place of my boy’s mother. You have done wonderfully 
well and I don’t know what I should have done without 
you. But Bob is certainly getting beyond the control of 


SCHOOLDAYS 


23 


either of us. He is too old and too big a lad to punish, as 
he should be punished, for his many omissions and slight 
transgressions.” 

“But Robert is not a bad boy, Peter.” 

“No, thank God, he is not. But he needs disciplining, 
nevertheless. He cares nothing for books or knowledge. 
We have done all we can to give him these. I have come 
to the conclusion that the best thing for us to do, is to send 
him to some good school, where he will be given every 
attention, and I’m going to do it.” 

“But where to, Peter; to what school would you send 
him?” 

“I have decided on St. Patrick’s at Melville and I have 
partly made the necessary arrangements.” 

“Why so far, Peter; so far away from us?” 

“I know that there are several schools much nearer to our 
home, but none, in my opinion, quite so well equipped for 
the training of the younger boys. We will not be able to 
see him as often as I would like, but, then, there are many 
vacation times during the two terms, as you know, and, 
besides, when the weather is fine, we can motor down to 
visit him. The ten months won’t be long turning around.” 

“I have to agree with you, Peter.” 

“You prepare him for his trip down and his stay in 
school. I will inform him, when he comes to the office, as 
I have told him to do, in the morning. Spare nothing.” 

Thus it was that Bob came to go to boarding-school, as 
was his heart’s desire, and, why, on the following day, when 
his father made known to him his intentions, he thanked 
him with so much joy. When he was leaving the store, 
Mr. Kane walked to the door with him, hand in hand, and 
patting him gently on the back, and smiling lovingly down 
at him. 

“I’ll make good, dad, I’ll make good.” 


24 


ROBERT KANE'S 


CHAPTER II. 

THE WRECK. 

T last the day of Bob’s departure for school arrived. 
All preparations had been made. The big trunk, 
that had been lying around in the garret for so 
long, had been carried carefully down the three 
flights of stairs, and neatly packed with every article that a 
boy’s heart could possibly desire. In fact, it had to be forced 
shut with great pressure before the clasp could be snapped 
into the socket to lock it. Then, two very strong straps had 
been bound tightly around it so that greater security was 
assured for its safe delivery at its destination. When one 
of the city’s numerous express wagons stopped at his home, 
the trunk had been placed quickly into it and had been 
carried away to the station and turned over to the great rail- 
road for proper transportation. Bob had been fitted out 
with new clothes, and now, with shiny face and polished 
boots, he wandered here and there about the house, bidding 
farewell to the home that he had come to realize that he 
really loved. He lingered long and sadly in the little cham- 
ber that had always been his own private domain. He 
stepped softly to the wall and kissed the picture of the dear 
mother that he could not remember ever having seen, but 
whom he had ever pictured in his thoughts of her as the 
sweetest of all the women in the world. He then snatched 
up his grip and hurried from the room into the hall and 
down the stairs to the living room where his Aunty was 
awaiting him. 



SCHOOLDAYS 


25 


“Well, Aunty, here I am ; like a Mexican bean, I am 
ready for the jump.” 

“Robert,” said she, crying as if her heart were about to 
burst with sorrow and grief, “I can’t bear to see you leaving 
me. I surely want you to go, but I just can’t stand to have 
you do it.” 

“Oh, Aunty,” said Bob, caressing her gently, “don’t do 
that. Sure, it’s nothing at all. I’ll be back here again at 
Christmas, and will have learned enough to make both you 
and dad proud of your young rough neck. Honest, Aunty, 
I’m going to buckle down and work hard. Dad said that, if 
I should bring home any one of the prizes that they hand 
out to us guys, he would give me a dandy new gold watch. 
Well, I’ll bring one home, if it’s only the booby. Don’t act 
like that, Aunty ; brace up, like a good fellow.” 

“Robert, Robert! Stop your chattering in that slangy 
language. You certainly need to go away to school to learn 
to control that tongue of yours,” and her eyes were dry in a 
minute under her feigned indignation. 

“Don’t hit a guy when he’s down; don’t scold me now. 
But here is father with the car. Come on, Aunty; all 
aboard.” 

He then snatched up his grip and locked his free arm 
affectionately in one of his aunt’s, and they both slowly ad- 
vanced to the automobile at the front of the house, and, in 
which, his father sat awaiting them. 

“Ready, for a wonder,” exclaimed Mr. Kane. “Get up 
in front there, Bob. Come in here, Mary, with me. I think 
we will be more comfortable that way. Directly to the sta- 
tion, Harry. We have plenty of time.” 

“Go easy, Harry,” whispered Bob to his father’s man at 
his side, “I want to look the old town over as we drive 
along.” 


26 


ROBERT KANE'S 


“Gee, Bob, but I am really sorry to see you go away ; 
we’ve been pretty good friends, haven’t we? But, at that, 
you’re a lucky lad to get the chance of a good education. I 
wish that I had one. The old gent feels it, too, and will miss 
you, although he does not show it now. Keep up, like a 
good fellow, and don’t make it any harder for him or your- 
self.” 

“I know, I know,” answered Bob, in the same low tone. 

They soon reached the station, and Bob jumped nimbly 
down to the platform in time to assist his kind aunt to de- 
scend. His father picked up the grip, and the three walked 
briskly around to the opposite side of the depot, and into a 
crowd of Bob’s late playmates, who had come down to sur- 
prise their dear friend and to give him a farewell cheer 
before his departure. While Bob was passing from one to 
the other in pleasant greetings, his train pulled heavily and 
slowly into the station. 

“Come here, boy,” said Mr. Kane, with a forced smile 
upon his lips. “Son, I want you to believe me when I tell 
you that I am very sad at seeing you leave me and your 
dear Aunt Mary and your home, even though it is for only a 
short time and you will benefit unquestionably by it. But, 
go you must; it is of my own choice. You have always 
been a good and truthful boy, Bob, and I can not doubt that 
you will ever be so. But you have ever been care-free and 
negligent ; you were never able to control yourself, nor could 
any of us ever influence or sway you from your carelessness. 
Try hard to overcome this very grave fault, for it evidently 
must come from within yourself. You seem to detest books 
of every nature. Learn to love and to seek knowledge in 
every form, and learn how to acquire it once you have found 
it. I am sure you will do all this, but I want to impress it 
upon your mind, and I want you to realize that I so desire, 


/S CH 00 L DAY S 


27 


it. Here’s your ticket, Bob; there’s your train. Bid Aunt 
Mary farewell, and get aboard. Good-bye, and may God 
bless you,” and he kissed him on the cheek. 

“I’ll make good, dad ; I’ll make good.” Poor Bob could 
say no more, but his eyes were still dry. 

“Good-bye, Aunty,” and he kissed her affectionately as 
he clasped her in his strong arms, and patted the weeping 
woman gently on the back. “Don’t cry so. Bob won’t be 
gone so awfully long, and we all will be happy when he 
comes home again.” Then he slowly let his arms fall until 
he held her trembling hands in his and gave them a parting 
squeeze. 

“Good-bye, Robert,” said Mary through her tears, and 
she placed something quickly in his hand, which Bob trans- 
ferred as quickly to his pocket. He could not thank her nor 
look at it then without showing some signs of unmanly 
weakness. 

“So long, fellows. Be good, and don’t take any wooden 
money while I am away. So long, Andy. Good-bye, 
George ; write to me when you get up there at St. John’s ; 
you had better learn to pitch while you are away. So long. 
Tom, give my regards to Miss Chaplin. Good-bye, Fred; 
practice wearing a pair of shin guards so that you can kid 
me a lot next summer. Get out of my way, you bunch of 
nuts ; this is not a wedding. By-bye, Aunty, dear ; write to 
me often. Good-bye, dad,” and he stepped lightly onto the 
steps of the coach and disappeared through the open door- 
way. 

Soon, however, his head and shoulders were seen pro- 
jecting through the window casing, about the middle of the 
coach. Then there was a mad rush upon the platform, as 
his friends ran to him, and good-byes and so longs were 
begun all over again. Mr. Kane stood a little aloof now, 


28 


ROBERT KANE’S 


smiling and watching the demonstration of popularity that 
was being tendered his son. But Bob’s eyes were constantly 
seeking his and those of the dear woman who had tried so 
generously and so hard to be all to him that his loving 
mother would have been had she been spared to him to wit- 
ness this occasion. 

“All aboard,” yelled the conductor, and his friends 
stepped slowly back upon the platform, away from his win- 
dow. “All aboard,” again shouted the boss of the train, and 
it began to move slowly away along the rails. Poor Bob! 
His time had come; he could not restrain his feelings any 
longer. Until now, he had done manfully, but he had 
reached the limit of his efforts. “Good-bye, dad ; good-bye, 
Aunty,” he shouted and pulled himself back into his seat and 
burst forth in a flood of warm and long-confined tears. 

The train had left his home town some distance behind, 
but Bob still sat bitterly weeping where he had thrown him- 
self. He was bent heavily forward and held his handker- 
chief spread well over his face so that few of his fellow 
passengers could see. Suddenly, however, he felt a very 
gentle tap on his shoulder, and with an effort he raised his 
eyes to look into those of an elderly, gray-whiskered gentle- 
man. 

“What’s the matter, son,” said he ; “leaving home for the 
first time ?” 

“Yes, sir,” sadly answered Bob. 

The old man sat down beside him. 

“Cry it out, boy,” he said, “you’re weeping at such a time 
is the best evidence in the world that you have the making 
of a man in you. Don’t stop; keep it up. You will feel 
better when you have emptied your eyes. You wouldn’t be 
worth your salt if you didn’t feel just as you do when you 
leave your dear father and mother. But you are mighty 


SCHOOLDAYS 


29 


young to start bucking the world. Come now, tell me, 
where are you going and what are you going to do when 
you get there?” 

Before very long, Bob was deep in confidential conversa- 
tion with this old man, and was laughing and talking as if he 
never did have a happy and pleasant home to leave. They 
became the very best of friends, and Bob felt a pang of 
regret when they had reached the station where they had to 
separate and Bob had to change cars, for St. Patrick’s was 
situated on a branch line of one of the greatest railroad 
systems in the country. 

Bob had about an hour and a half to wait for his connec- 
tion to Melville. He, therefore, began to consider how he 
should pass the time. After he had checked his grip at the 
parcel stand, and partaken of a very dry sandwich and flat 
cup of coffee, he strolled leisurely to the street. He stood 
for a moment near the corner, eating the peanuts which he 
had also purchased in the depot. 

“Cab, sir; hansom, sir,” said a rough-looking old man, 
approaching him with his whip in his hand. 

A thought struck Bob. 

“How much will you charge me to drive up around the 
University grounds and back here?” 

“A dollar and a half in real money.” 

“How long will it take to do it?” 

“About an hour, if the horse doesn’t strike on me.” 

“The old plug looks as if he might strike on you at any 
minute.” 

“Some horse that, my boy. Never failed me yet, which 
is some recommendation.” 

“I should believe so, but I would, not want the long end of 
a bet on him. I have to catch the one-thirty train for Mel- 
ville; can you make it?” 


30 


ROBERT KANE’S 


“Not if we stand here all day talking. I have to make it, 
if you say so, boss. Don’t be wasting time ; jump in and I’ll 
get you back, if I have to feed my colt on gasoline.” 

Bob did jump in, and away went the cab at a brisk trot 
up the street over the smooth pavement. At the time that 
Bob and his father had had the talk in the office at his 
father’s store, Mr. Kane had most elaborately pictured to 
Bob the possibilities hidden in his future. One of the pic- 
tures portrayed was the final or finishing touches to his edu- 
cation, and the father had seemed anxious that Bob would 
one day grace the halls of the university that was established 
in this particular city. Of course, Bob expected to comply 
with all his father’s wishes, and he now seized upon the 
opportunity to view the scene of his future adventures. He 
was very much impressed with what he did see. He thought 
that, if he could only realize all the expectations that his 
father cherished for him, and all the ambitions that were 
now becoming warm within his own breast, he would one 
day descend from those high and broad steps out into the 
world, sufficiently equipped with knowledge and wisdom to 
accomplish any of the problems that life had in store for 
him. He determined to try harder and harder to do it. 

The clever old driver got him back to the station in 
ample time to catch the Melville express, and, after securing 
his grip, he slowly wended his way through the depot and 
into his coach, where he found a seat in the rear of the car. 
As he sat down, he noticed, about six seats in front of him 
and on the opposite side, a lady with a baby in her arms. 
She had reversed the back of the seat in front of her, and 
on this seat sat a little girl of about four years old and a 
young boy of probably seven. The poor mother was having 
her troubles, because the three children were young, healthy 
and mischievous. Bob paid no more attention to them until 
the train was well on its way, when the boy, with a most 


SCHOOLDAYS 


31 


silly grin spread all over his countenance, walked boldly 
down the aisle to the water tank hung in the wall of the car. 
Whether he was lonesome or had some other thoughts in 
his mind, Bob determined to get this young chap into a con- 
versation, and, as the lad was returning to his mother and 
sister, he stopped him. 

“Come here, kid,” he said, and the boy stopped and 
leaned against the arm of Bob’s seat. 

“Sit down and let’s talk a minute. That’s right,” he con- 
tinued, as the youngster nestled himself down beside him, 
still grinning like a little ape. 

“What’s your moniker; what do they call you; what’s 
your name?” 

“Thomas Sanderson,” replied the little lad. 

“Tom; not Thomas. Beaman. That’s the advice that 
I have been getting from all around me, and, I guess it won’t 
do any harm to pass it along. Tom Sanderson, where are 
you going ?” 

“Going to our new home,” said the boy. “Papa bought a 
farm up in Melville. He’s up there now. And now we’re 
going up, too. Ever live on a farm?” 

“No,” smiled Bob. “I admit, I’m no rube.” 

“Where are you going?” 

“I don’t know where I am going, but I do know that I am 
just come from heaven.” 

“From heaven! who are you?” 

“Why, I’m the guy that mows the lawn in front of the 
golden gates. Inside is heaven all right, believe me.” 

“You’re telling a lie, aren’t you?” 

“No, kid, I’m not telling a lie; I’m just come from 
heaven and I’m going back some day, I hope.” 

“What are you going on this train for?” 

“Well, kid, I’ll tell you why I’m here. I was too mean a 
guy to appreciate a good thing ; I neglected the lawns and I 


32 


ROBERT KANE’S 


used to scrap with all the other boobs that gambolled on the 
green, so, when the old rusty hinges busted on the gate, they 
thought it would be a good opportunity for me to see some 
real rough stuff and bristle out by seeing it, they sent me 
down here to find them a new pair.” 

‘‘When you find them you’re going back, aren’t you ?” 

“You bet I am, boy.” 

“You like it, then?” 

“Like it, kid; I love it. But no one else would ever 
know it from the way I’ve acted.” 

“Where’s your wings ; don’t they wear wings in heaven ?’* 

“They do, son ; but they clipped mine and clipped them 
close, too. A new pair has just begun to sprout out, though, 
and if I see you when they begin to show feathers, I will 
give you a peep at them. Promise that you won’t tell anyone 
about it; will you promise?” 

“I won’t tell anyone but mamma and papa.” 

“They won’t believe that you saw anyone from heaven ; 
especially without wings, you know.” 

“Mamma might ; papa 'says that she believes everything 
that is told to her.” 

“Does your father chew tobacco?” 

“Yes, he does.” 

“Tell him to cut it out. I have seen St. Peter turn hun- 
dreds of good men away from heaven just because they 
chewed tobacco; it’s such a dirty habit. And little boys! 
My gosh ! how he will rear and tear his hair every time a 
kid tries to get in, who has been raising cane, when riding 
on a train with his mother and sisters. He says that a boy 
should always help her out at such a time by being quiet and 
good. I shouldn’t give this away on him, but I took a shine 
to you and I noticed that you were causing your mother a 
bunch of trouble, and that she has been constantly tugging 


SCHOOLDAYS 


33 


at you. Now, go back and take care of your sisters for her. 
Good-bye ; don’t forget the wings.” 

“Gee,” continued Bob in his mind, “and dad gave me 
credit for being a truthful guy. Good night! that was a 
whopper, but I hope that the kid fell for it ; his poor mother 
looks all in.” 

Soon the news boy came into the car with a basket of 
fruit upon his arm. While he walked up the aisle, he 
stopped at each passenger and tried to persuade them into 
buying his stock. When he approached Bob, our hero sal- 
uted him as follows : 

“Ah, butcher, give us an apple, will you ?” 

The boy laid his basket upon the arm of Bob’s seat, and,, 
before he had inquired into the price or asked any other 
question, Bob grabbed up one of them and took a very large 
bite out of it. 

“How much?” he asked, with mouth bulging to its 
capacity. 

“Five cents,” replied the boy. 

“Five cents ! Are you selling me one apple or your whole 
basket full of them?” 

“That’s the price, sir. Five cents.” 

“Why, where I come from you could buy a barrel of 
apples for another nickel added to that,” said Bob. 

“Quit your kiddin’. I can’t help what they are worth 
where you come from. My price is five cents,” replied the 
boy. 

“Give the kid down there one and I’ll give you a nickel,” 
said Bob. 

“What do you think I am ?” snapped the boy. 

“I think you’re a bug, but I can’t prove it because you 
haven’t bit me.” 

“You’re a fresh kid, all right,” exclaimed the boy. 


34 


ROBERT KANE'S 


“No, Ike, you’re wrong again ; I’m only trying to get 
acquainted with you. Here’s fifteen cents; go and give that 
kid and his little sister each one on me ; and smile on your 
way back ; you look as if you should be dressed in black 
instead of blue.” 

The boy did smile, and afterwards became very pleasant 
to Bob, who later enticed him into a long conversation in 
which he learned that his name was Jacob Steinberg. Bob 
was soon calling him Jake without giving the least offense. 

After a time the train began to slow up, as it approached 
the station of a very small town. The trainman threw open 
the door in the rear of the coach and sang out in a very loud 
voice, so that all could hear : 

“This station is^Grovertown ; change cars for Sparkleton, 
Forestdale, Middleville and Crystal City. This train for 
Melville, Goodale, Summerport, and all points west. This 
train waits twenty minutes for refreshments,” and then he 
repeated his song, so that no one could possibly misunder- 
stand him. 

Bob hopped down to the platform and began to pace 
up and down in an effort to get the kinks out of his legs 
and back, which his long ride had caused to come there. 
While he walked about, he tried to picture in his mind, 
what St. Patrick’s was like and v how it was going to appeal 
to him, and what his life 'there was really going to be. 
Would he find new friends there; would they like him and 
would he like them ; would the teachers and the masters be 
able to put up with his shortcomings and his carelessness? 
He was determined that he should exert every effort to do 
all that was expected of him and to assure himself that the 
reports sent weekly to his father would demonstrate his 
success. When the twenty mniutes were nearly up, he 
returned to the train and was about to ascend to his seat, 
when the lady .with the three children came up behind him. 


SCHOOLDAYS 


35 


As he stepped to one side to give her the right of way, he 
heard the little boy say to her : 

“That’s the angel that had his wings clipped ; that’s him 
from heaven.” 

“Get up there, and quickly, too ; don’t let every imp that 
you meet fill you with their lying stories. They are bigger 
simpletons than you will ever be, I hope.” 

Bob could not restrain his laughter, but he very kindly 
turned his back to her and placed his hand over his mouth, 
so that she could not hear him. Suddenly he stopped and 
began to redden to the roots of his hair, as he thought. 

“By gosh! she thinks I’m a liar. Well, to tell the truth 
about it, I did lie a bit, didn’t I? Oh! I don’t believe that 
any harm was done. At any rate, I do not feel that I should 
worry over it ; I don’t believe that I should apologize to her ; 
I won’t, anyhow.” 

“All aboard,” for the third time that day, he heard the 
conductor yell, and he climbed to his seat in the car, and 
soon he was moving on the last leg of his journey. The 
first touch of lonesomeness had now taken hold of him and 
he was on the verge of tears. But, as has already been 
intimated, he was a lad of unusual resourcefulness, and, 
when he realized his condition, he quickly pulled himself 
together with a difficult effort and said to Jake, as he was 
passing him. 

“Say, Jake, business has been pretty fair with you to-day, 
and, as a particular friend of yours, I guess you will let me 
talk to you for a few minutes. I have just left home, a 
dandy home, too, and I am on my way to St. Patrick’s up 
the road here. You must know the place; can you tell me 
something about it?” 

“Not very much,” replied Jake. “I know nearly all the 
fellows that go there, by sight. They ain’t all as fresh as 
you are and we don’t get acquainted so easily. They all 


36 


ROBERT KANE'S 


seem to be a good enough sort ; lively like and full of ginger. 
They are all about your size or bigger. You will see the 
school and all the buildings and the grounds and the lake 
from the train before we get to Melville. The town is 
about a mile beyond the college. You’ll like it all right; I 
would; I wish that I was going with you. You’ll like the 
priests, too, for they are almost like the boys themselves 
only, I guess, they know more. I always have a good sale 
of fruit and candy, when they come and go ; they clean me 
right out. Don’t you eat candy ; you didn’t buy any.” 

“Yes, I eat it and will buy a box when you bring it 
through. But I am not a banker, you know, nor can I make 
money good enough to pass on a sharker like you.” 

“Oh, there are a lot that you can get by on, easier than 
you can on me. But there are no bells on me, at that.” 

He was gone only a short time, when suddenly there was 
a loud crash, and Bob was thrown half way through his 
open window. As he lay, or rather, leaned there, his senses 
were nearly half gone. He was not able to realize what 
had happened. He turned his head to look about him but 
he could not distinguish a thing, through the dense cloud of 
smoke and steam that had instantly filled the air. He put 
his hand to his face, for he felt a slight pain there, and, as 
he rubbed it over his cheek and found traces of blood, it 
immediately came to him that the train, in some manner, 
had become almost a complete wreck, and that he had been 
thrown from his seat, by the sudden shock, into his present 
position. He did not become frightened, as many of us 
would have. He pulled his head and body back into the car 
and tried to gaze about him ; but he could see nothing. He 
examined his cheek and found that his wound was very 
slight. He stretched his legs and arms. They were not 
injured. In a twinkle, he was out in the aisle, and he tried 
to make the door, but the strewn seats and grips and bundles. 


SCHOOLDAYS 


37 


and the crowd of frightened people made his passage almost 
impossible. Back to his seat he rushed, and climbed quickly 
through the window and dropped to the ground below. 
Down a short bank he grappled his way; then through a 
ditch of water and up a slope through the steam and smoke 
until he reached the fields where he turned and could see 
about him. When he was at last in the clear atmosphere, 
he beheld the mass of wreckage, and saw that the train, 
upon which he had been travelling, had rounded a sharp 
curve with its great speed, and had smashed terrifically into 
the rear of a freight train, which had been standing there 
without a danger signal to warn them, as they came speed- 
ing on. To our Bob, it was a pitiable sight. Where were 
the others that had been traveling with him; what had 
become of them ; were they all killed and had he been the 
only one to be spared? Although he could not see a soul, 
he could hear the shout of many voices. What could he do ; 
what should he do? It did not take him long to decide. He 
stood only for a moment to locate the sound of the voices, 
and then, with a bound and a dash, he leaped back into the 
dense cloud that blinded him. He followed the voices until 
his head hit something. He raised his hands and discovered 
that it was the floor of his own coach. The voices came 
from the other side. Down on his hands and knees he 
dropped and began to crawl to the spot where some one 
probably needed his assistance. When he had reached the 
other side of the car, he raised himself to his feet and 
rushed forward, and, instantly, came out of the cloud into 
the clear air on a level piece of land, where his companions 
had collected, and he joined them. The conductor was 
rounding up his charges in an endeavor to ascertain if any 
of them were still missing. 

“Oh ! here he is,” exclaimed he, on seeing Bob. “What’s 
the matter with your cheek; are you badly damaged?” 


38 


ROBERT KANE’S 


“No,” replied Bob. “I’m O. K. Tend to the others,” 
and he took his handkerchief from his pocket and applied 
it to his injured face. 

“Sure you’re not hurt, eh ! Here, give your name and 
address to this man ; hurry, please, for we will be busy for 
some time.” 

While he was so doing, he heard the voice of the mother 
of his late friend, Tom Sanderson, fiercely wailing. “Oh, 
my poor boy, my Thomas, where is he? He didn’t get out 
and it is burning; he will be burned alive; my God, if 
there is a man among you, save him for me ; get him out of 
there ; my boy ; my boy.” 

“I am sorry, madam,” said the conductor to her, “no one 
can enter that car. It would be sure death for him to do so. 
If your boy were still alive, which is not probable, any 
attempt to rescue him would only mean two lives instead 
of one. I am sorry, madam.” 

“Oh ! try, man, try to save him. God will bless you for 
it. Save my boy, my Thomas,” and she fainted dead away. 

Just then Jake came running’up to Bob. 

“Gee, kid, you got out all right. No lives lost, I guess,” 
he exclaimed. “I thought you were a goner ; I missed you.” 

“Jake,” said Bob in a strange voice, “are you a man?” 

“I should hope so,” he replied. 

“Well, then, prove it by following me. No danger will 
come to you; I’ll see to it. Say nothing; ask no questions. 
Just follow; keep close to me and be quick about it.” 

“All right, go ahead. I’m with you until something 
happens, and then, we’ll see what I do.” 

“Come on,” cried Bob, and he rushed back over the 
course that he had so lately travelled with Jake close to his 
heels. 

“On your knees, Jake, we must crawl under the car to 


SCHOOLDAYS 


39 


the other side. Keep close, I tell you, or you will lose sight 
of me.” 

“I’m on my knees and at your heels,” called back Jake. 

They arose to their feet, as soon as they were free of 
the car, and Bob soon located his window. Then he took 
Jake by the hand and said, through the smoke that was 
choking them both : 

“Jake, I want you to stay here just as long as you can 
and breathe. Lie down on the ground after I am gone so 
that you will get to purer air and stay there until you hear 
me slap the side of the car above your head here. Then I 
may need your assistance to get me out. I am going back 
there, but I won’t be long. If you don’t fail me, I’ll be your 
brother for life. Now give me a boost and then lie down, 
as I told you.” 

Jake put his two hands together and, when Bob had 
placed his foot between them, he sprang from the ground. 
It is needless to say how a boy of his strength and ability 
drew his way up to the window and wiggled his body into 
the burning car. But once inside, things were different, 
He was but a boy. Please remember that feature. He 
could hardly breathe and could not see his own hand, if 
held before his face. He did not try to raise himself to his 
feet but began to crawl and creep his way to the aisle. Then 
he began to wiggle himself towards the seat in which he had 
last seen the object of his search. The heat was burning 
his nostrils and the smoke was suffocating him, but he kept 
on going and going — it seemed miles and miles to him — and, 
while lie crawled, he kept feeling all around him. Finally 
his hand came in contact with a shoe — the shoe was full 
of something — and he need go no further. He summoned 
all his strength back to him; for it had been slowly 
leaving his young body; and he pulled what was in the 
boot to his side. Then he clasped it in his arms and began 


40 


ROBERT KANE’S 


to retrace the course over which he had just, with so much 
difficulty and suffering, made his way. Could he make the 
window. My God, how he prayed that he might. He 
struggled to his feet; and made one grand effort to do so. 
Thank God, he did. He leaned far out and slapped the side 
of the car with all his remaining powers. 

“Yes, yes,” he heard Jake cry, but he could not answer 
him. 

Slowly out of the window he pushed the form of the 
unconscious boy and let it descend gently until he heard the 
voice of Jake exclaim: 

“All right; I got it; any more?” but Bob could not 
inform him. 

Out of the window he now climbed, as quickly as he 
could, but he had very little strength to help himself and he 
fell to the ground in a lifeless mass. 

“Take — the the rube — to — to his — mother. Tell her — - 
her — that the angel — from heaven — without — the wings — 
brought — him back — to her. She’ll — forgive me — for — 
lying to — him I — guess.” 

“Come on, crawl back, quick. I’ll take care of the kid, 
all right.” 

“I can’t — I’m not — dying — .but I’m— all in. Come back 
— and help me — over, but — first get the — rube back — to his 
mother.” 

Jake dusted away, as fast as he could, under the burden 
of the little shaver that Bob had saved at the risk of his own 
life, but it was not long before he was back at the side of 
his friend and our hero. 

“Ha, pal, now, come on; here I am,” he said, but re- 
ceived no answer. 

“Gee, he’s out. What do you know about that,” thought 
Jake to himself. Down to the ground he again dropped and 
began to roll the unconscious form of Bob onto his own 


SCHOOLDAYS 


41 


back. Then he began to crawl under the car to the other 
side. Soon, pretty well tired out and exhausted, he gently 
laid the lifeless body of Bob on the grass, free from further 
harm or danger. While kind hands were working over our 
hero, Jake related to them the tale of the rescue, and they 
seemed to redouble their efforts to restore him to life again. 

Bob was young and strong and healthy, and, after a half 
hour or so he was seen to open up his eyes. Soon he was 
sitting up, and then standing in the center of the crowd 
around him. He gazed about him for a moment, before he 
silently walked away from them and seated himself on a 
stump of a tree that was lying by. 

“Ha, Jake,” said Bob, as his friend was hurrying by. 
“Did you save any of your expensive apples from the 
wreck ?” 

“Yes,” replied Jake. “I had two in my pocket and they 
both pulled through without any damage.” 

“Well, give me one. Give one, too, to the little country 
kid, Tommie. He might need it before he gets out on the 
farm and a regular meal. And don’t you charge him any- 
thing for it.” 

“I won’t,” replied Jake, “nor you either.” 



42 


ROBERT KANE’S 


CHAPTER III. 
st. Patrick's. 

N about an hour after the fast Melville express 
had plunged into the train of the careless freight 
conductor, as has been told in the foregoing 
chapter of this narrative, a carriage dashed 
madly up the road that paralleled the tracks. As it 
approached the group of passengers and folks of the 
neighborhood, who had quickly collected about the scene of 
the disaster, it began suddenly to slow up, and the team of 
well-groomed horses began to prance around as if they were 
not yet satisfied with the race they had run. The lather that 
gave proof of extraordinary exertion, streaked down their 
forwards and their haunches. But the man behind the reins 
soon mastered them and turned them off of the beaten path 
and to a post in the fence that bounded the road. Both the 
riders, for there were two, jumped lightly to the ground, 
and, while one of them proceeded to securely tie his chargers 
to the post, the other crawled nimbly through the wires of 
the fence, and, in a moment, had joined the bystanders. His 
hurried glances had already taken in the whole situation, and 
he, with a rather gentle smile, bowed to several of the party 
who now stood by with their hats in their hands. 

“May God be merciful!” he said. “Is anyone hurt?” 

“No, Father Connelly, no one is hurt to speak of. A 
little boy was knocked unconscious and was left in the coach 
that is now in ashes over there But there was a young chap 
here who rescued him before he was burned alive. The 



SCHOOLDAYS 


43 


shaver sits over there now beside his mother. He is slightly 
burned and frightened, but, aside from that, no one is hurt 
much.” 

“God be praised,” prayed the good priest. “We have had 
our ride for nothing, Father Doyle,” he continued, as the 
other priest came to his side. 

“I am glad of that,” replied Father Doyle. “It seems 
almost miraculous that someone has not been killed. That 
certainly was an awful wreck.” 

Then the two good men separated. Each one began to 
pass among the people, speaking kindly to them and ques- 
tioning them concerning their general condition. They 
smiled and laughed and chatted, and soon even those among 
them who had been inclined to be sad and melancholy on 
account of their recent experience, began to feel the gist of 
their generous intentions. Father Doyle, who had taken the 
western wing of the gathering, now espied Bob, who was 
still sitting on the stump, where we had left him, as he called 
his friendly jibe to Jake. He silently approached our hero. 

“Well, young man, I see, by the gash in your cheek, and 
the rather ruined condition of your clothing, that you were 
in the midst of the trouble.” 

“Yes, Father,” answered Bob, who was instantly on his 
feet with his hat in his hand, “I was in the wreck, but got 
out ‘aces up’.” 

“Aces up,” exclaimed the priest, who could not refrain 
from a good-natured smile. “Aces lip.” 

“I mean O. K., all right, Father,” blushed Bob. 

“I understand, my boy, I understand; aces up. But, 
judging from your appearance at the present time, your aces 
were called by some three of a kind.” 

“I guess that’s it, Father,” replied Bob unabashed. “But 
I was in the pot at the show down.” 

“But there was no second money, was there?” 


44 


ROBERT KANE’S 


“No, Father.” 

“Well, who raked in the chips?” continued the priest, for 
he had taken a sudden liking to Bob, and, having been in- 
formed of his bravery in his heroic rescue of the Sanderson 
boy, and, surmising who he was, he wished to lead him on in 
order that he might get an insight into his boyish character. 

“I can’t just figure it out, Father. It was a regular 
western, wild west game. Somebody dished the glim right 
in the middle of the play, and, when I came to all I had to 
my credit was the bum hand and the empty bottle that had 
held the candle.” 

The priest could not help but burst into a loud roar of 
laughter, which attracted the attention of many of the others 
near them, and some of them came strolling over to where 
they were standing. 

“Well, my lad, your powers of expression are certainly 
immense. If you can learn to control them, and to elevate 
the eloquence in which you deliver them, you will, some day, 
be a wonder. Have you ever played poker ?” 

“Not for real money, Father. I used to win a lot of 
marbles from the boys when we used to play in our barn 
before dad got his automobile.” 

“Who is your father, lad?” asked the priest, although he 
felt certain that he knew. Father Doyle had for years been 
the Director of St. Patrick’s, and had carried on quite some 
correspondence with Mr. Kane, who had communicated to 
him the time and the train on which Bob might be expected. 

“His name is Peter Kane, and we live in Wexford. My 
name is Bob Kane, and I am on my way to St. Patrick’s 
School, some place about here, where we all expect that I 
will pull off some wonderful stunts.” 

“Oh,” again laughed Father Doyle. “So you are Robert 
Kane. I have been expecting you. I am Father Doyle, the 
Director of St. Patrick’s. I am glad to make your acquaint- 


SCHOOLDAYS 


45 


ance, Robert, and, I am sure that you will ‘pull off’ all the 
‘stunts’ that you and your dear father anticipate. Father 
Connelly and I drove over, when we heard of the wreck, and 
you can drive back with us, for it is only a mile further on 
up the road.” 

“I thank you, Father,” replied Bob; “but there is some- 
thing I would like to do before I am landed safe and sound 
behind the high walls of my future prison.” 

“Prison, boy ! my goodness ! don’t say that, for you are 
going to love it and all that it contains before you are much 
older. We all do, son. Prison ! oh, Lord ! but then, I know 
you didn’t mean it. Your late experience has saddened you 
and you are becoming homesick. Wait a few days until you 
have learned to like it and all of us. What is it you wish to 
do?” 

“Oh, Pm going to stick it out, Father,” replied Bob. “A 
little homesickness won’t hurt me any; I had the measles 
once, and Aunt Mary says that I raised the devil in general 
around the house. She brought me up, you know ; I haven’t 
got a mother. But, if you don’t like me and we don’t get on 
well, don’t blame her for it; she did the best she could by 
me. I’ve been a hard nut. to crack ; dad says so. He says 
that I am like a chicken in its shell ; I’ll have to break my 
own way out.” 

Again Father Doyle burst forth in a very loud laugh, and 
all the people who stood by them joined with him. “But,” 
said he, “what is it you wish to do ?” 

“Just to have a little talk with Jake, the news boy on the 
train. Once he did me a favor, and I have never been able 
to pay him back. I would like to spend fifteen or twenty 
minutes with him, Father, and then I will be ready to drive 
back with you.” 

“Go ahead, Bob ; we won’t be ready to return much be- 
fore that time. Talk to your friend.” Father Doyle, who 


46 


ROBERT KANE’S 


had been managing boys for so long, knew well why Bob 
wished to speak to Jake, and his heart went out to him be- 
cause he knew. 

Bob bounded away and ran to the rear of the wrecked 
train, where he stopped and looked around him. Soon his 
eyes fell upon Jake, who sat dangling his feet upon one of 
the fence posts among the great crowd. Bob put the two 
fore fingers of each hand into his mouth and gave vent to a 
shrill whistle, and, as Jake heard and gazed about him, our 
friend beckoned to him to come along. Jake nearly fell 
when he toppled from the post. He came racing to where 
Bob awaited him. 

“Come on around here/’ said Bob, “where the rest of the 
mob won’t see us,” and they both walked to the opposite side 
of the wreck and sat themselves down at each other’s side 
on the bank over the ditch. 

“Jake,” said Bob, and he sought the other’s hand and 
looked him in the eye, “I called you over here because I 
want to thank you for what you did for me this afternoon.” 

“I didn’t do much,” interrupted Jake; “you did it all.” 

“I know,” continued Bob, “what I did, and I know what 
you did. I am not talking about what I did, and you needn’t 
either. You stayed by me and, for all that either of us can 
figure now, you saved my life, for which I am thankful. 
What I want to say is this : I have no way in which I can 
show you my appreciation at this time, but, when I have 
finished at school and have made good, as I am certainly 
going to do, I want you to know that I will not forget what 
you have done for me. In order to do this, we must keep in 
touch with each other. Promise that you will not forget me, 
and, if you should duck to another job before then, you will 
let me know to where you have hiked.” 

“Sure, kid, you’re dreaming. You have not fully recov- 
ered from the shock of your afternoon’s work. But I will 


SCHOOLDAYS 


47 


be glad to remember you, all right, and I will keep in touch 
with you. Will they let a Jewish lad write to you while you 
are in St. Pat’s?” 

“Well, I’ll try to fix that all right. You write just the 
same. Will you promise to do so ?” 

“Sure, I promise,” answered Jake. 

“And, now,” exclaimed Bob, “I am going to ask you to 
do one more favor for me My dad has always said that I 
am the most careless and negligent kid that he ever knew, 
and there is no doubt but that he is right. Two weeks 
ago, I probably would not have thought of what I am about 
to ask you now. Both he and Aunt Mary will surely hear 
of this wreck and, knowing that I am on the train, they will 
worry themselves sick, thinking that their rough-neck is a 
goner. I want you to send a message, when you reach the 
station, to my father and tell him that I am all right; that 
I pulled out without injury. He will telephone the news to 
Aunt Mary. Will you send it for me?” 

“You bet I will,” responded Jake. 

Bob then took a note-book from his inside coat pocket 
and tore a blank leaf from it. He then placed the leaf on 
the cover of the book which he held on his knee, and, having 
taken out his pencil, he began to write as follows : 

“Mr. Peter Kane, 

“Wexford, X. 

“Train wrecked; no one hurt; I am safe at St. 
Patrick’s. , 

“Bob.” 

“How much is it to telegraph?” inquired he. 

“Twenty-five cents for the first ten words and two cents 
extra for each additional word,” replied Jake. 

“Then this message will cost twenty-seven cents, won’t 
it?” he asked. 


48 


ROBERT KANE’S 


“Let’s see it. Yes,” answered Jake after he had counted 
the words. 

“Well, here is a half dollar; it’s all the change I have 
left ; keep it, but send the message,” said Bob, and he placed 
both the silver piece and the leaf of paper into Jake’s big, 
rough hand. 

“All right,” said Jake, “as soon as we hit Melville.” 

“Now, so long, old socks,” said Bob with outstretched 
hand which Jake grabbed in both of his. “We have been 
good pals for a few hours at least and I hope you’ll keep 
your promise. Some day we’ll both be men and we may 
hook up together then as we have hooked up to-day. It 
would be some combination, wouldn’t it, a Catholic and a 
Jew. Well, we’ll see. Good-bye, Jake.” 

“Good-bye, Bob,” replied the newsboy, and he, for the 
first time, called him by his given name. He stood quite still 
for some time after Bob had rushed away and then said to 
himself : 

“Gee, that kid’s a prince. He can be as funny as a 
minstrel and as serious as bread and water on an empty 
stomach; all in the same breath, too. I’m glad I’m his 
friend; I’ll keep my promise, too; he’s going to amount to 
something some day all right ; he’s probably the son of 
some rich man ; no one would ever think it to hear him 
talk or to see his actions. I wish him luck. I’ll walk in 
now and send his message and catch the five-thirty back 
down the line,” and away he started up the track towards 
Melville station. 

Mr. Kane received the message that afternoon just as he 
was about to leave his store for home and he felt grateful 
to his son for having sent it. He had sufficient confidence 
in Bob’s ability and truthfulness to feel assured that his 
son was safe as he had wired. But, however, the few 
typewritten words did not fully satisfy Aunt Mary that her 


SCHOOLDAYS 


49 


dear boy was yet out of danger. Her anxiety, when she 
pictured him, buried under a great heap of debris and 
stripped of all his belongings, soon got the better of her and 
she burst into a flood of tears, which her brother had great 
difficulty in checking. She, then, at once, began to prepare 
a new supply of clothing and goodies which she determined 
upon sending to him. The next morning, Mr. Kane sat 
reading his paper, while he drank his coffee. He emitted a 
cry of surprise and joy, when he read an account of his 
son’s heroic rescue of the Sanderson boy. He re-read it all 
over to Mary, whose tears again began to flow, as he con- 
tinued with a feeling of untold pride and, probably, for the 
first time in his life, the happy blessing of being the father 
of such an unselfish boy. While Mary wept, he laughed 
loudly in his gladness, and he patted her tenderly on the 
shoulder. That day, and for many to follow, he only smiled 
and made little of the affair, as he received the congratula- 
tions of his friends and acquaintances. 

Returning to Bob, we find him standing beside the rig 
that the priests had left tied to the fence post, patiently 
waiting for them to start back to St. Patrick’s. In time, 
they joined him and began to prepare for the drive. 

“How are you, Bob,” said Father Connelly, “I am glad 
to know you,” and he offered him his hand in a pleasant 
greeting. “I have been listening to the tale of your bravery 
of this afternoon, and I wish to congratulate you, in my 
own behalf, and to thank you in behalf of the poor mother 
who is too overcome to do so for herself. The Sandersons 
are going to live on the farm adjacent to the college grounds 
and I told her, to ease her mind, that she would, in all 
probability, see you often in the future.” 

“I don’t want her to thank me,” said Bob. “I owed her 
something but I guess we’re square now. At any rate, I 
call it quits.” 


50 


ROBERT KANE’S 


“You owed her something,” exclaimed the priest. 
“What could you have owed her that you should have risked 
your life to save her son?” 

“Oh, nothing much,” replied Bob, with a nervous twitch, 
caused by his last unlucky remark. “I just insulted her in 
a way, while riding on the train with her and the young fry, 
and I didn’t apologize. I guess it’s all right now. Please 
don’t say any more about it.” 

The two pious men exchanged glances. What manner 
of a boy was this that was coming to abide with them and 
their charges ; how could he possibly have insulted this 
lady? Nevertheless, they said nothing, though they both 
determined to examine further into the subject as soon as 
they had the time and the opportunity. Finally Father 
Connelly began to laugh very loudly, as he stopped and 
stood looking Bob over. Father Doyle joined him in it. 

“Bob,” said he, “you are a sight to behold.” And he was 
just such a sight. His face, cut on the cheek, was as black 
as the hair that adorned his head. His cap, still on the 
back and tilted to one side, was covered with dirt and dust. 
His new suit was covered with the ashes from the burning 
car that it had collected when he went creeping and crawling 
through it. His stockings were torn at the knees and near 
his shoe tops. His shoes were thick with the mire and mud 
that they had sunk into, as he had plunged through the 
ditch in his efforts to reach the clear fields, when he had 
first escaped from the wreck. But, Bob smiled too, as much 
as to say, that it was nothing unusual with him and that he 
did not mind it in the least ; but he said nothing. 

Soon he was fairly comfortably seated upon the knee of 
Father Connelly, sitting beside Father Doyle, who, with 
reins and whip in his hand, masterfully drove the team of 
well-kept horses back to where they knew that a good 
supper of hay and oats awaited them. It did not take long 


SCHOOLDAYS 


51 


to cover the road back to the college and, in a short time, 
they turned up the avenue, between two rows of tall maples, 
that lead up to the great building. Bob’s eyes strolled in 
every direction in an endeavor to take in everything about 
him as quickly as possible. 

The main building at St. Patrick’s set about three 
hundred feet away from the road. It had been built by 
master hands of brick and stone. Parallel with the highway, 
it extended about three hundred feet in an easterly and 
westerly direction. Its northern and southern walls were 
about half that dimension. It had three floors. About a 
hundred paces farther west, the chapel, a monument to one 
of the college’s well wishers, towered high in the air with its 
steeple. Still farther to the west, nestled the comfortable 
home of the good fathers, who were devoting the best part 
of their lives to the care and the education of the small 
boys that were entrusted to them. Back of these buildings, 
stood other buildings, the handball alleys, the baseball 
diamonds and the athletic fields, without which any college 
is very poorly equipped. Still farther back, lay a beautiful 
body of water, known for miles around as “The Lake.” 
On this, the boys would skate in the winter, and, in the 
summer, they refreshed themselves on warm and tedious 
days. The drives about the place had been covered with a 
fine gravel which had been packed to such hardness that 
they were smooth and almost noiseless when they were 
driven upon. 

Whoever it was that had selected this spot on which St. 
Patrick’s had been erected, knew well what he was about. 
It was ideal for just what it had been chosen for. The 
town of Melville and the surrounding country, was about 
eight hundred feet above the level of the sea, and the 
climate was moderate, light and healthful. The atmosphere 
was, as a rule, invigorating and refreshing. Although the 


52 


ROBERT KANE’S 


main buildings of the college were constructed upon a slight 
raise of the ground, the fields and land around them were 
almost as smooth as the waters of the lake, to which they 
gently sloped, and, beyond which, they broke into a number 
of small mounds and hillets. 

Bob noticed all this, or ,as much of it as he could possibly 
see, while he rode up the avenue, around the bend in front 
of the “Hall” ; past the chapel, in front of which, all three 
tipped their hats in respect to the Blessed Sacrament 
within, and up to the high porch that graced the front of 
the priests’ home. When he had alighted from the carriage, 
and the two priests had gotten down too, he stood by, not 
knowing just what to do. Father Doyle, standing by the 
head of his ponies, beckoned to one of the lay-brothers 
approaching him, and, when the subordinate had climbed 
to the seat, the priest handed him the reins and said : 

“Take good care of them this time, Brother, for they had 
a hard race down and were covered with perspiration.” 

“Yes, Father,” replied the Brother, and he drove them 
away towards the stables. 

Father Connelly had already disappeared within the 
house, but, Father Doyle turned to Bob with a pleasant tap 
on his shoulder, as he said : 

“Well, my boy, here you are at your new home. Now, 
make it your home and use it as if you really cared for it 
as such. I will introduce you to one of the boys and he 
will take you about so that you can, to your heart’s content, 
examine whatever may appeal to you. He will also take 
you to the dormitory, where you can select any one of the 
quarters that are not already occupied. Your desk and 
lockers and so forth, will be assigned to you to-morrow, 
when we will begin our regular schedule and you will then 
learn whatever else is necessary for you to know. Don’t 


SCHOOLDAYS 


53 


worry about to-day. It’s nearly finished and supper will 
soon be ready in the refectory. Come with me.” 

He then led Bob back past the chapel and along the 
cement walk to the rear of the hall. As they rounded the 
corner, a sight that thrilled Bob’s heart lay before him. 
There were his future schoolmates in great numbers col- 
lected in several groups of boys of various ages, ranging 
from his own to probably eighteen years of age. Some 
were seated in circles, laughing and chatting in gleeful 
spirits ; some were lounging against pillar, or post, or wall, 
swapping experiences of the past summer vacations ; some 
were walking about, arm in arm, and singing their college 
songs ; some were playing in the handball alleys, or on the 
lawns, or around the sodless space between the Hall and 
another building. But, that which most appealed to him 
was a picture presented further on, where a number of 
boys, yelling and shouting as loudly as they pleased, were 
throwing and batting a baseball upon a regulation diamond. 
They wore regular uniforms, too, of a grayish color. 

“Do you prefer any one of the games that the boys are 
playing, or do you wish to play at all ?” asked Father Doyle. 

“I prefer the baseball, Father, if the kids will let me play 
with them,” modestly replied Bob. 

“Sure they will be delighted to have you play with them. 
The field is yours as well as theirs ; come along,” and while 
he passed among the boys he playfully cuffed this one or 
pushed that one, as if he were one of them himself. They 
all smilingly tipped their hats, and eagerly sought a friendly 
word from him. 

When they had come out upon the ball field, Father Doyle 
stood for a minute, looking about him, as if to determine 
in his mind, which of those before him he should delegate 
the honor of being the new-comer’s guide and guardian. 
Finally he beckoned to one of the boys, who was a tall, 


54 


ROBERT KANE’S 


slender youth, about two years older than Bob, and he 
came trotting over to them. The priest tenderly placed a 
hand upon the shoulder of each one of the boys at his side, 
and then said: 

“Frank, I want to make you acquainted with Bob Kane. 
Bob, this is Frank Grace. He is a baseball player and I 
leave you in his care. Please show him around, Frank, 
and take him to a place where he can wash and clean up a 
bit. He looks as if he had been badly handled because he 
was in the wreck down the road a ways, but, I guess, you 
can make him look presentable between you. Now, Bob, 
I will leave you, but I will see you again soon and often. 
Excuse me,” and then he retraced his steps to the priests' 
home. 

“I am happy to know you, Bob,” exclaimed Frank, and 
he took Bob by the hand. “Come on over here and I will 
introduce you to Father Duffy; he is on second base.” 

“I am glad to know you, too,” replied Bob. “I think 
that I would rather clean up a bit before I meet any one 
else. May I?” 

“Sure; come with me and I’ll see that you get fixed up 
all right. That’s quite a cut you have on your cheek ; how 
did you get it?” 

“I really don’t know what it was that struck me. I got it 
when the two trains came together. I don’t think that it 
amounts to much ; I can hardly feel it.” 

“Was it much of a wreck?” asked Frank. “We heard 
of it but received none of the details.” 

“Not so much after it was all over,” replied Bob. “The 
railroad company will be the only loser I imagine. I lost 
my trunk, but they will probably make good for that.” 

“And did you lose everything?” inquired Frank. 
“Haven’t you anything but what you have on your back?” 

“Not a thing,” responded Bob, “but I don’t worry; my 


SCHOOLDAYS 


55 


Aunt Mary will have a full supply of everything that I need 
out here in a jiffy.” 

“Well, I am slightly taller than you are, though not so 
broad, but I guess we can manage to get along all right until 
your aunt’s fresh supply reaches us,” assured Frank. 

“Thank you,” said Bob, “maybe I will be able to help you 
out some day.” 

“That’s all right,” quickly responded Frank; “you 
needn’t worry about ever paying me back any favor of that 
description.” 

“All right, I won’t worry,” replied Bob. 

By this time, they had reached the groups of boys that 
we have already described as loitering around on the lawns 
and about the buildings. As Bob and Frank continued 
their course among them, many of them began to whistle a 
tune, which timed with the strides that our friends were 
making. To Bob, it was rather annoying. 

“Don’t notice them; keep on walking as if you didn’t 
hear them ; if they get your nanny now, you are doomed to 
even more gibes; don’t notice a thing; just talk to me and 
hurry along,” said Frank. 

“I’m wise ; I’m hep,” replied Bob, and he did not turn a 
lash in either direction nor appear to note the boys’ attempt 
to embarrass him. 

“Oh, Rube; ha, greeny; you buster; where’d you get 
it, Frank? You picked a prize package, Gracey, old boy. 
Bornee Bill is with us; got any more like that one?” and 
many other boyish jibes were hurled after them. 

Bob did as he was advised by his newly-acquired friend, 
but his face reddened and he felt the blood rushing to his 
head. Directly in front of him, he saw a doorway, which 
they were approaching and which he knew they meant to 
enter. Just to one side of this doorway, there had been 
extended two ropes of probably a quarter of an inch in 


56 


ROBERT KANE'S 


diameter, from two tall posts that were sunk deeply in the 
ground, to two iron rings that were fastened securely in 
the wall of the building. These ropes had been put there, 
so that the brothers, who generally beat the few rugs and 
mats that graced the floors of the priests’ house, could do 
so without having to tediously bend their backs to the 
ground, as they would have to do had they not been put 
there. At this time, two rows of young boys were leaning 
against these ropes, as they faced each other, and chatted 
away to their hearts’ content. When they saw our friends 
approaching them, they began to clap their hands together 
in unison, and, with each clap of the hand, the gravel and 
Bob’s heel met. Something flashed suddenly upon Bob’s 
mind and he made no effort to turn it away. Silently his 
hand went to his rear pocket and out came a sharp knife, 
which he opened with his hands behind his back. When he 
came up to the post, he deliberately reached up and quickly 
drew the blade across one of the ropes. Instantly several 
pairs of heels were flying in the air, and several boyish 
forms were rolling on the ground. Bob bounded for the 
doorway, but the form of one of his victims had fallen out 
further than he had figured, if he had figured at all, and 
when Bob rushed into it, he was thrown with great force 
into the air and landed on all fours a few feet beyond. His 
knife had been cast from him in time to avert any possible 
danger from it. Before he could climb to his feet again and 
make the getaway that he had so hurriedly planned, there 
were several pairs of harsh hands placed upon him. They 
pulled him roughly to his feet. Frank’s efforts to rescue 
him were of no avail. Then they grabbed him and began 
to shove him all over the lawn; through this group, then 
through that one. “Freshy; kill him; give him the rail; 
turn the hose on him,” was yelled from all sides. Finally, 
powerful hands began to separate his assailants and, in a 
few seconds more, he was free again. 


SCHOOLDAYS 


57 


What’s the trouble here?” demanded an angry voice. 

"Nothing, Father McCormack, nothing,” said one of 
them, "only this new fellow here got fresh ; he cut that rope 
on which we were sitting, and we all took a tumble on the 
ground.” 

"Why did you cut that rope?” asked Father McCormack 
turning to Bob. "This is a nice beginning for you, young 
man ; don’t you destroy any more property that does not 
"belong to you. I will give you ten demerit marks for your 
actions, sir. And for each one of you older boys, ten to 
you, too.” 

"Father, I did what they say I did, and you can not blame 
them for trying to get even. Give me the marks but, please, 
don’t chalk up anything against any of them.” 

The boys turned their gaze upon Bob ; that speech came 
from a good sort and it won their friendship for him. 
Father McCormack also turned to get a better look at him 
and could not refrain from saying: 

"Well, son, you have a noble spirit anyway, and, since it 
is the first day of school, I will absolve you all from blame, 
if you will promise to try to be more considerate in future.” 

They all promised. Bob, with Frank’s assistance, was 
soon as clean as he could possibly make himself over one of 
the many basins in the lavatory. While he was washing, 
Frank had excused himself for a few moments, and Bob 
now stood waiting for him to return. He placed his hand 
in his coat pocket and felt there the little package that his 
Aunt Mary had so secretly handed to him, when she was 
kissing him good-bye at the station. He quickly pulled forth 
a tiny pasteboard box, and raised the cover. His eyes fell 
upon a small piece of paper on which was neatly written 
the words, "Say them often and remember me.” He slowly 
raised the paper and discovered a very small set of black 
rosary beads. Tears came to Bob’s eyes. He reverently 


58 


ROBERT KANE’S 


took the beads out of the box, which he cast from him, and 
he put the note tenderly into his pocket. Then he ran the 
beads almost affectionately through his fingers and, when 
he reached the cross on the end, he tightly pressed it, raised 
it piously to his lips and kissed it, as he whispered to himself, 
“You bet I will, Aunty; you bet your rough-neck will.” 
He soon heard the echo of Frank’s steps who was returning: 
through the hallway and he hurriedly placed the beads in 
his pocket. * 

“Well, are you ready?” asked Frank, when he had 
entered the lavatory. 

“Yes, Fm ready,” slowly and sadly answered Bob, for 
the mood was still on him. 

“How do you like the place?” asked his friend. 

“What’s that?” interrupted Bob, as the sound of' a ringing 
bell reached their ears. 

“That’s the signal that supper is ready and that we are 
expected in the refectory,” replied Frank. 

“Well, then, I’ll tell you how I like the place, after I have 
seen what they have packed in my feed bag; let’s eat, for 
I’m hungry,” said Bob. 


($0 H' GOLD AY 8 


59 


CHAPTER IV. 

HOW BOB MADE THE FOOTBALL TEAM. 

J T is probably needless for me to assure my readers 
that Bob, true to his promise and resolutions, 
0 began on the following morning “to buckle down 
and to study hard.” When he had been assigned 
to his desk in the large study hall, where he found piled 
high upon it, new books, which were to cover about all the 
subjects that he would take up during the first term, he 
turned his attention to his left and saw his friend, Frank 
Grace, smiling at him from his place just across the aisle. 
Bob smiled back his approval of the arrangements. He 
then turned to the right, and discovered little red-headed 
Jimmie Ryan, new like himself, but who happened to be one 
of the lads whom Bob had sent rolling on the ground when 
he had cut the rope on the previous evening. They were 
great friends now, and Bob again smiled his approval. Di- 
rectly in back of him sat Harold Mallory, built, for all the 
world like Uncle Sam, and whose long legs were soon to be 
a source of great annoyance to our hero, as they continually 
banged and banged away at the bottom of his chair. In 
front of him leaned the form of Clarence Murphy, whose big 
freckles, scattered abundantly all over his long and bullish 
neck, reminded Bob of a mid-summer’s sky, studded with 
its many constellations on a clear and peaceful night. Bob, 
like the others, began to write his name on the fly leaf of 
each book, and then to store them neatly away in the space 




60 


ROBERT KANE’S 


provided for them. Soon Father Doyle entered, followed by 
a number of the worthy men who were to be their teachers 
and instructors. Father Doyle climbed quickly to the 
rostrum, and the other priests scattered themselves about the 
study hall. 

“Young men,” said he, in a loud and clear voice, “I have 
come to welcome you all among us, and to announce to you 
my hopes and expectations. I will not detain you long. It 
nils me with great joy to see collected within these walls the 
bright faces and manly forms of so many young Catholic 
gentlemen of this great land of ours, and to realize that I 
am the head of the organization that is to care for them, and 
that is to teach them the knowledge that will lead them to 
opportunities hidden by the future. I appreciate my respon- 
sibilities, and I trust that you will aid me in my trials. But 
you, too, have a great deal for which you should thank Al- 
mighty God, and for which you should endeavor to exert 
your best efforts. Your dear parents are spending much 
money in sending you here ; they are sacrificing themselves 
that they may give to you ; return, therefore, to them what 
they ask of you and what they anticipate from you. After 
all, it is not much, and you are really the ones who gain by 
doing so. They ask you to accept every opportunity to be- 
come men ; real men : worthy to go into the world bearing 
the name that they in their love have given you. They ask 
you to return to them, honest, earnest, decent, Catholic gen- 
tlemen. Much depends upon the manner in which you begin, 
and you are beginning pw. Start now, then, to study and 
to learn. When it is time to study, do so ; when it is time to 
pray, do so; and, when it is time to play, go to the yards 
and the fields, and, with all the boyish vim and vigor within 
you, play as hard as you study and pray. If you do this, my 
dear young men, you will have earned the respect and the 
esteem of all of us, your teachers, and you will be entitled 


SCHOOLDAYS 


61 


to the honor and love of those who so cherish and love you. 
Now, boys, I wish you all, and every one of you, well, and 
I happily turn you over to the care of your respective pro- 
fessors.” 

Classes had begun, and, as the days pass, we find our hero 
hard at work. He had made many friends and he began to 
love the life just as Father Doyle had assured him that he 
would. Whether or not it was unmanly of him, he no longer 
felt the occasional pang of homesickness or lonesomeness. 
How could he, since He was never alone ! He wrote home 
every other day and received as many letters in return, all of 
which he fondly hid away, as if, like a miser, he would horde 
his treasures from the eyes of every man, but keep them for 
his own secret pleasures. The last bit of tear that had tried 
to escape his eyes came when the supply of clothes arrived,, 
which Aunt Mary had sent to replace those lost in the wreck, 
and, when he found on the very top of all the rest, a gray 
baseball uniform, just like the one he had so ably described 
to her in one of his letters. 

One day, when he had been delayed for a few minutes at 
the-beginning of a recess, he was hurrying across the field to 
the ball grounds. As he trotted along, he espied Father 
Brennan, who was slowly walking to and fro on the path, 
reading his office. Bob dropped his bat to the grass, and 
silently awaited for the priest to return to where he now 
stood near the end of the walk. When the reverend gentle- 
man came up to Bob, he gently raised his eyes from his book 
and pleasantly wished him the time of day. But, since our 
hero still gazed upon him, he stopped reading, and said : 

“Did you wish to speak with me, Bob?” 

“Yes, Father, if it will not bother you by doing so.” 

“Not at all, Bob. What can I do for you?” 

“Father, you can do me a great favor, if you will.” 

“Surely I will, if I can, my son. What is it?” 


ROBERT KANE’S 


62 . 


“Since you assign the boys whom you wish to serve at 
the masses, Father, will you let me serve once in a while?” 

“Certainly and gladly; but I understood that you could 
not serve. In fact, you yourself told me so, Bob.” 

“I know I did, Father; but, since then, I have been study- 
ing the jibberish and I can now spiel it off all right.” 

“I am delighted, Bob, beyond measure ; I really am. But, 
tell me, why this sudden determination?” 

“I don’t mind telling you, Father; but it isn’t sudden. 
Back home, there is an old man and ‘an old woman, who ex- 
pect a lot from me and who think a lot of me, and I want 
to please them. It won’t be very hard for me to satisfy the 
old man, because I have so many ways to do it. But it is 
different with the old lady. One day, long ago, she took me 
to see our pastor and wanted me to serve on the altar like 
the other nuts ; but I only laughed and would have none of 
it in mine; no sailing around with clasped hands before 
every one in town. She cried when I disappointed her so, 
and she thought that I was always doomed to be a rough- 
neck all my life. You can imagine, Father, what a glad 
surprise it will be to the old lady, next Christmas vacation, 
if I should go to Father Cummins and get his permission to 
serve a mass or two while she was kneeling in her prayers. 
It isn’t because I have become pious ; I am not at all pious. 
It’s just to please her that has done so much for me. If you 
will let me serve here, I will have the nerve to try it there, 
that’s all.” 

“Bob, I will assign you to serve my own mass next week, 
and you may continue to do so as long as you please.” 

“Oh, I want only to take my turn, that’s all.” 

“My mass will be at 6 o’clock; you will have to rise 
early.” 

“I’ll be on deck and ready, no matter the time, and I 
thank you, Father.” 


SCHOOLDAYS 


63 


As he strolled away to the field, the good priest watched 
him with many a thought concealed within his mind, but, I 
wish to state, none of them ever materialized. 

Now, it will be recalled, that I have already told you that 
Bob s was a dormant character, and that it was very difficult 
to influence his interest in any one particular thing, until 
some peculiar force had stirred that interest within him. 
The students of St. Patrick’s had a very strong football 
team, but it had been beaten for the past two or three seasons 
by a team sent over from St. Thomas’ Academy of the next 
county. Bob had never cared much for football. Of course 
he, in season, would go with the boys of the neighborhood to 
a nearby field or vacant lot, and kick a ball around and join 
in small scrimmages, but he had never played on a real 
eleven. Therefore, when Father Dufify came into the study 
hall one night and appealed to the student body to get to- 
gether and to help the regular team in its practice, or in any 
other way possible, to prepare it to defeat the team from 
St. Thomas’, Bob decided to do all that he could. After 
thinking it over, he deemed that the only way in which he 
could be of any service to them was by going out and lining 
up with the scrub team, and taking all the thumps and 
knocks that they wished to give him and lie could not avoid. 
Consequently, on the next afternoon, he presented himself, . 
in proper togs, to Father Dufify, and informed him that he 
was ready to take his medicine. 

Father Dufify assigned Bob to the position of halfback 
on the sub-team. For some few minutes, while the regulars 
had the ball in their possession, he did all that was absolutely 
required of him, but no more. He ran in front of the inter- 
ference to block it; he tackled, when he had his man; he 
laughed as Frank Grace tossed him here and as Clarence 
Murphy pushed him there about the gridiron. He, in turn, 
did what tossing and pushing he could without too great or 


64 


ROBERT KAN E’ S 


too strenuous an effort. Finally, Father Duffy stopped the 
play and took the ball away from the ’varsity and gave it to 
Bob’s side. Upon the very first play, Bob was signaled to 
receive the ball, but, almost before he had secured it, he was 
thrown for a loss of several yards. “Hold them, you ; hold 
them,” shouted Father Duffy. But they could not hold 
them. Two or three times they tried to, but, upon each occa- 
sion, they were thrown back yard after yard by the huskies 
of the ’varsity squad. Finally, Bob was given the ball again' 
and sent on a violent charge between guard and tackle. In 
a flash he was on the bottom of a pile of boyish figures. 
While the others were relieving him of their weight by 
scrambling to their feet, he received a heavy blow just over 
the right eye, and saw the hand of Billie Burke as he was 
withdrawing it to his side. Instantly Bob was on his feet 
and rushed savagely at Bill. 

“Why did you strike me?” he exclaimed. 

“Why did you kick me ?” as savagely responded Bill. 

“I didn’t kick you,” said Bob. 

“You lie, you did,” yelled Bill back at him. 

Bob was about to strike Bill with all his might, but the 
sight of Father Duffy approaching seemed to check his anger 
just for the moment. Immediately he jumped back to his 
• position behind the line, and said lowly to his quarterback: 

“Give me the ball, quick.” 

It was delivered to him, and he went crashing into the 
line in front of him. On, on he dragged those who hung to 
him for several yards, but he was finally thrown to the 
ground by their great weight. While he lay there, waiting 
for the others to pile off of him, he looked above him and 
there beheld the grinning face of Billie, who was playing 
fullback, and, therefore, stood well back on the field. 

“Give it to me again,” snapped Bob, as he hurried to his 
position. 


SCHOOLDAYS 


65 


Again he hurled himself furiously into the formation be- 
fore him, and although he broke it and gained some distance, 
he was made to eat the dirt for the second time. As he lay 
there, he saw Billie still smiling and knew that Burke was 
well aware of what he was trying to do. 

“Give it to me again,” asked Bob, “around the end; 
around the end.” 

The ball was passed to him, and he began his mad course 
towards the opposite end of the line. He rushed terrifically 
into the arms of Frank. Grace, and he sent him sprawling 
in the dust. He cleverly ducked under the outstretched arms 
of Clarence Murphy, who lost his balance and fell headlong 
at the side of Frank. Then, with a clear field, he began his 
charge directly towards Billie Burke, who came running 
down the field to meet him. Bob shifted the ball to a more 
secure position under his left arm and prepared to beat down 
the defense of Billie. When they met, Billie quickly stooped 
to grab Bob near the knees, but Bob, with his eye foxily 
watching every move, leapt suddenly into the air, and, at the 
same time he raised his knee with such force that, when it 
met Billie full in the face the lad rolled over in a lifeless 
mass, and Bob continued running down the field until he 
stood behind the goal posts, where he placed the ball for a 
touchdown. The subs went Wild ; they had scored on the 
Varsity; but that is all that they realized concerning the 
wonderful feat of Bob, so cleverly was it done. Bill was 
not long in coming to himself again, and, when he drew near 
to Bob, he said close to his ear : 

“That was a dirty trick, and I’ll get even.” 

“I expect that you .will try,” as secretly answered Bob, 
“but I will try not to let you.” 

The goal was then kicked, and Father Duffy declared that 
they had had enough play for that afternoon. While they 


66 


ROBERT KANE’S 


were dressing in the gymnasium, Bob stopped short on his 
way to the showers, and thought to himself : 

“By gosh, Bobbie, old boy, that was a dirty trick; the 
worst you ever played ; he probably did think that I kicked 
him. Well, it’s done ; now we’ll see what comes of it.” 

On the following day, at the after-breakfast recess, Bob 
was very much surprised when Father Duffy called him to 
one side and said : 

“I want you out to-day ; I am going to give you Burke’s 
place on the team. You are certainly a great line plunger, 
once you get started.” 

“No, Father,” replied Bob, “I think I’ll quit.” 

“No,” exclaimed the priest in his astonishment ; . “and 
why not?” 

“Because I went out to give the boys practice, Father, and 
not to make the team.” 

“But you must,” continued Father Duffy. “We must 
win from the St. Thomas’ team this year, and, with you in 
the back field, we can do it.” 

“Maybe so, Father,” replied Bob, “but I cannot do it. At 
least, not under those conditions.” 

“What do you mean ; not under those conditions ?” 

“Just what I said, Father,” responded Bob; “I can not 
take anyone’s place. I don’t want to have anyone fired off 
on my account ; especially Billie Burke.” 

“But you are the better player, Bob,” said the priest, “and 
the better man should get the position. Bill understands that 
and he will not expect to play, if we can find a better man 
to take his place.” 

“I am not a better player, nor as good a one. I got that 
touchdown yesterday on a dirty trick. You were away back 
on the field and did not see. I didn’t do it by football play- 
ing, for I did not know how to get him out of my way by 


SCHOOLDAYS 


67 


football methods, and, besides, I was angry and had a debt 
of grudge to pay to Billie. I kicked him in the face with my 
knee and laid him out for a minute, just as he was going to 
throw me in the regular way. No, Father, I can’t and won’t 
take his place.” 

“I am not asking you to play because you made that 
grand dash around the end and up the full length of the field 
for a touchdown. It is because of the masterful manner in 
which you hit that line in the plunges. If you will do that 
against St. Thomas’, we will surely win.” 

“No, Father,” replied Bob, still stubborn in his determin- 
ation, “not unless Billie^ Burke plays too.” 

“Well, I *am quite satisfied with the rest of my line-up.” 

“Then, continue to leave me out, Father, please.” 

“For the present, I will not urge you any further.” 

Bob really felt dismayed. He felt sorry for Burke, for 
he realized that he loved to play football just as eagerly as 
he himself loved to play the game of baseball. He knew the 
disgrace that he would feel, if he were substituted by a 
younger chap, as a second baseman or a shortstop, for 
reasons similar to those that were turning Billie away. Al- 
though he did not consider Burke’s actions towards him so 
very manly, he did not deem his own means of getting even 
as honorable as he might wish they had been. Billie had 
used his fists to strike him when he was in a position which 
would not allow him to defend himself, but he had used his 
fists, and that meant a great deal to Bob. He had had re- 
course to his knee in attacking Billie, and he could find no 
excuse for having done so. Therefore, in this frame of 
mind, when he walked past one of the handball alleys, where 
he noticed Burke, who stood watching four of the other 
boys while they contested in a strenuous match, he hailed 
him. Billie sullenly gazed at him, for a moment, and then 
reluctantly walked over to him. 


68 


ROBERT KANE’S 


“What’s eating you, f reshy?” he inquired. 

“Not a thing, Billie,” answered Bob, good-naturedly, “but 
I thought that you and I might have just a little short talk 
together ; it might do us both a lot of good.” 

“I have nothing that I wish to say to you,” said Billie, 
“and I don’t believe that you can interest me.” 

“I may, Bill, if you will but listen to me.” 

“Well, shoot it, and be quick about it,” replied Billie; “I 
have pleasanter things to look to.” 

“Bill,” continued Bob, “I admit that that was a dirty trick 
that 1 pulled on you yesterday afternoon, and I am sorry 
that I did it; can’t we be friends, and call it quits?” 

“You are beginning to crawl, eh, 1 ’ grinned Burke. “I 
knew that you were a dirty coward.” 

“No, Bill,” responded Bob, paying no attention to the 
insult, “I am not crawling, nor am I a coward. I am not 
afraid of you, and I think you know it. I am simply telling 
you that I admit my meanness towards you, and I am trying 
to apologize to you, and be a friend to you, if you will let 
me.” 

“Why, I can wipe, the earth with you,” boasted Billie, in 
a nasty tone of voice. “I can beat you up at any time or any 
place.” 

“Yes, I guess you can, all right,” said Bob, smiling at this 
last remark, but looking him steadily in the eye, “I am no 
fighter. I will concede you that much pleasure, if you find 
any pleasure in it.” 

“Is that all that you have to say to me ?” snapped Burke. 

“All,” replied Bob, “unless you can shake hands with me 
and be my friend.” 

“Not until you have apologized as a gentleman, under 
such conditions, should,” proudly answered Burke. 

“What do you mean, Bill ?” asked Bob. 

“Why, you kicked me on the field, didn’t you?” said Bill. 


SCHOOLDAYS 


69 


“Yes,” admitted Bob. 

“Before all the boy§ in the game and all those watching 
us practice, didn’t you?” continued Burke. 

“Yes,” again admitted Bob. 

“Well, then, if you will apologize to me out on the field, 
under the same conditions, I might consider letting the mat- 
ter drop,” said Burke. 

“Bill, I have already explained my actions towards you to 
Father Duffy. When he asked me to take your place upon 
the team, I refused to do so, because I didn’t want to see you 
dished,” said Bob. “I have already done my best in trying 
to make good to you. I will do no more. You hit me first, 
and I was very angry when I so madly attacked you.” 

“You kicked me before I hit you,” cried Billie. 

“No, Bill, I didn’t kick you; at least, not intentionally. 
You, like myself, were in the scrimmage, and you have been 
playing football long enough to expect a little rough han- 
dling, when in a pile like that was. You weren’t hurt so 
very much, I guess.” 

“I know what I am doingp Kane,” said Burke, “and I 
need no lecture from you. You seem very anxious to make 
friends with me, and I have given you my terms. As for 
your taking my place on the team, I don’t worry. You’ll 
have to go some, believe me. Even though you did, what do 
I care ? I am not dead crazy about playing with a bunch of 
dubs.” 

“You don’t care?” exclaimed Bob. 

“Not a bit,” replied Burke, “why should I?” 

“And we can’t be friends?” asked Bob. 

“Not until you agree to my terms,” responded Billie. 

“All right,” said Bob, “I refuse to agree, but I’m sorry. I 
have nothing more to say ; so long” and he turned away and 
left him. He returned immediately to the lawn, and ap- 


70 


ROBERT KANE’S 


proached Father Duffy, who was superintending a wrestling 
match between two of the youngsters. 

“Father, I have decided to play, if you. will let me.” 

“Fine,” said the priest. “Come out this afternoon.” 

Bob was now a member of the ’varsity squad. The ex- 
citement of the game soon took a strong hold on him, and 
he, like in everything else, when he once began it, soon was 
master of its fine points. He learned how to drop kick and 
to punt ; to plunge the line ; to tackle, to dodge and to avoid 
his opponent; to catch, to block and to pass the ball. He 
never tired of practice, and, as Father Duffy often said, if 
the other players would do only half as much as Bob did, he 
would play any team in the country. 

But Bob was just the same in the study hall and in the 
class room. As soon as the sound of the bell had called the 
boys in after a recess, he would hurry directly to his desk, 
and soon his nose would be deeply buried in his Latin or 
English grammar, his algebra, his history or his Christian 
doctrine. He had begun right, as soon as Father Doyle had 
left the rostrum after his welcoming speech on the first day 
of school, and his good resolutions had not yet worn off, if 
they were ever to wear off. At the end of September, the 
monthly reports had been sent home to the fathers of the 
boys. Bob had received a letter from Mr. Kane, in which 
his father had stated that he was very well pleased with the 
manner in which his son was conducting himself, and ex- 
pressing a hope that all future reports would show as fine an 
average. 

One day while Bob was bent over his books, preparing 
his recitations for the classes of the following day, he sud- 
denly felt a sharp sting on the back of his neck. He said 
nothing, but, when he looked around, he noticed a piece of 
paper that had fallen to the floor beside his chair. He 
stooped down and picked it up. It was tightly folded and 


SCHOOLDAYS 


71 


bent in the middle, just like those wads that you and I used 
to fold and shoot with a rubber band, when we were children 
in school. Bob slowly turned in his seat and looked about 
him, and, although several of the boys in his rear were beam- 
ing in smiles, Billie Burke, who sat in their midst, was bent 
lowly over his books and evidently had not noticed what had 
been going on about him. But Bob’s observing eye, how- 
ever, noted the rubber band that lay idly by his hand. 

“Good shot, Bill,” whispered Bob, and he smilingly 
turned again to his work. 

He had no more than forgotten the incident mentioned 
above, than snap came a sound, and another wad tipped him 
on the end of the ear as it went flying past him. He did not 
move an inch, but he reddened to the roots of his hair, and 
all who looked his way noticed it. In a few seconds there 
was another snap, and the third wad struck our hero again 
in the back of the head. Like a flash he was on his feet with 
a pencil case in his hand, and he turned so quickly that he 
was in time to see Billie drop the rubber band from his hand 
to his desk. Like a shot, Bob’s arm went into the air, and he 
hurled the pencil case with all his strength at Burke. Billie 
saw it coming and tried to dodge it, but he was not clever 
enough. The case struck him fully in the chest and, as it 
burst open, its contents fell distributed about the floor. Big 
Dan Phelan, the admonitor, came hurriedly to Bob’s side. 

“What’s the matter here?” he cried. 

“Nothing much,” replied Bob. 

“Why did you do that?” demanded he. 

“Because I wished to,” exclaimed Bob in his anger. 

“Because you wished to, eh?” roared Phelan. “Well, you 
come with me at once, sir, and we shall report your actions 
to Father Doyle. I won’t stand for such misbehavior.” 

Bob immediately turned and started from the hall with 
Phelan at his side, and they both proceeded down the long 


72 


ROBERT KANE’S 


corridor to a door on which was printed this sign : “Office. 
Father Doyle, Director/' Dan rapped gently on the door, 
while Bob stood uneasily by. 

“Come in,” they heard a very loud voice yell, and they 
entered the office and stood in the presence of the head of 
St. Patrick’s. 

“Well, what’s the trouble now, sirs?” asked Father Doyle, 
as he noticed the worried expression on Phelan’s face and 
the sullen manoeuvres of Bob. 

“This young man is acquiring the habit of hurling his 
pencil box about the study hall, Father,” said Phelan, “and 
I have brought him before you to report his conduct.” 

“Hurling his pencil box about the study hall,” exclaimed 
the priest. “Can that be possible; especially in our Bob, 
from whom we are expecting so much? I am, indeed, 
surprised. What have you to say, sir?” 

“Nothing, Father,” faltered Bob. “Nothing. I did it 
once ; it is not a habit.” 

“Have you no excuse to offer; are you not sorry and 
willing to apologize and to make amends ?” asked the 
Director. 

“I have no excuse to offer, Father,” replied Bob. “I am 
sorry that I have been a disappointment to you but I can’t 
say that I am sorry that I threw it. I cannot apologize 
only in as much as I have broken the rules of the college.” 

“Why did you throw it and at whom?” 

“I cannot tell you, Father,” replied Bob. 

“Phelan, there is something still deeper behind this 
affair; at whom did he throw the box?” asked the priest. 

“I don’t know at whom he threw it, but it struck Billie 
Burke,” answered Phelan. 

“Ah, ho, Billie Burke; I should have known,” said 
Father Doyle. “Bring him here at once, Dan.” 


SCHOOLDAYS 


73 


Phelan departed but soon returned with the rather 
frightened Billie. 

“William,” said the Director, when the boy stood before 
him, “what did you do that angered Bob here into throwing 
his pencil box at you?” 

“Oh, I was only fooling,” sputtered Billie. “I didn’t 
mean any harm. I only hit him three or four times with 
paper wads.” * 

“Ah, I thought so,” continued the priest. “I know all 
about the affairs that have been going on between you two 
young men and it has got to terminate here and now, or 
trouble will follow, I assure you. Dan, you may return to 
the study hall,” and the good man hesitated long enough 
to permit Dan to leave the room. “Now, here, you boys, 
both of you shake hands.” They did so. Bob gladly, 
which was noted by the priest. “Now, promise that you 
will, from now on, be the best of friends.” They promised. 
“Now, Billie, for your own peace of mind, I will inform 
you that Bob did not relate the part that you took in this 
recent act of misbehavior. Phelan told me that it was you 
he struck, and you, yourself, told me what you had done. 
Now, go to the study hall and be good boys.”. 

When they were in the corridor, Billie turned to Bob 
and again offered him his hand. 

“So you didn’t squeel?” he said. 

“No, Bill and never would have either,” replied he. 
“You told on yourself.” 

“Well, Pm not sorry,” exclaimed Billie, “for you are a 
decent sort and this has made us right again. But, at that, 
I was an ass, wasn’t I?” 

“Yes,” said Bob, “a bigger one than I had figured you.” 

"I’ll go out to-day and get on the team again. I can’t 
beat you out, though, for you have certainly made good.” 

“Well, let them put Murphy down on the line where the 


74 


ROBERT KANE'S 


big clown belongs. Say, Bill, that would be some backfield : 
Grace, Burke and Kane. If we can’t trim St. Thomas’, 
I’ll give you my chuck for a week.” 

“If we lose, you can have mine for a month.” 


0 



SCHOOLDAYS 


75 


CHAPTER V. 
bob's trip to town. 

Y dear readers, have you a grown up family of 
young men and young women? Have you any 
children now, who approximate the ages of the 
lads that attended St. Patrick’s College? Have you 
ever had any experience at all in the rearing of boys, 
who are at that stage of life, when they are no longer the 
dependent tots that used to crawl about your knees and 
nestle peacefully upon your lap ; when they begin to shed 
the mask of childhood and approach the youthfulness that 
just precedes manhood; when, for the first time, they 
begin to appreciate the dignity of long-legged trousers? If 
you have, you will agree with me, when I recall to your 
minds, how, at that time, you began to note these changes 
and to remark the features that gave evidence of the 
characteristics that were to distinguish the individuality of 
the man. Although not set as tightly as the metal in the 
vise of the mechanic, they had, nevertheless, begun to show 
a very firm grasp upon your lads. You had to work, hard 
and patiently upon them to eliminate the faults you could 
not sanction and you said too little, alas, to encourage the 
virtues that might some day pronounce the man a model 
among his associates. You had noticed, too, that these 
changes did not occur in a day or a week. They slowly and 
singly appeared as time advanced. 

Now, at this stage of our narrative, you have learned, 
perhaps, to like our hero, and, I trust, that you shall con- 




76 


ROBERT KANE’S 


tinue to care for him. We have seen him, as the boy that 
he was, playing and performing as healthy and growing 
boys should play and perform. We have known him in 
anger, when he would fly beyond even his own control and 
when he would -do things that he would afterwards be 
sorry for. We have heard him, in his manly manner, plead 
in his sorrow and grief to be permitted to rectify the 
effects produced by his shortcomings. We have realized 
that he is imbued with that schoolboy’s 'honor which char- 
acterizes the American boy from the lads of other national 
birth. We have, therefore, assured ourselves that he is 
but a boy. 

But, pause a moment. Does not the determination, 
which he has shown since he so suddenly entered St. 
Patrick’s College, mean just a little more to you? Remem- 
ber how careless and negligent he had been at home, where 
his dear father and aunty could do little to mend his ways. 
Does not his steadfastness and firmness of purpose, on the 
athletic field, in the study hall and class room, awaken 
another thought within you? Recollect that one of the 
principal reasons for his having been sent away to school 
had been his abhorrence of books and the attainment of any 
knowledge that produced results to his father’s liking. Do 
not these sudden changes in his manner and character, 
show that he had at last acquired and obtained the instincts 
of manhood? I think so, dear readers; and, as we continue 
with our story, please do not censure me, if, upon various 
occasions, I should tell you of incidents in which are 
mingled the actions of the boy and the man, for I am going 
to write them exactly as they have occurred in real life. 

It occasionally happened that the priests would have a 
message of some description to send into the village and 
would, on a Wednesday or Saturday afternoon, which the 
boys had free from their studies, give it to two or three 


SCHOOLDAYS 


77 


of them to deliver. One day, shortly after they had 
finished eating their midday meal, Father Brennan, who 
was rather a sickly man, had taken to his bed. The doctor 
who had been hurriedly called to his side, had given him a 
prescription, which he told him to have concocted and to 
begin using at once. Father Brennan had given the slip of 
paper to his superior, Father Doyle, and requested him to 
have it returned to him as soon as possible. There was 
only one drug store for miles and miles around, and that 
one was located in the village of Melville. Father Doyle 
called Jack O’Brien and Bob over to him. 

“How would you two young men like to take a trip into 
the village?” asked he, when they had come to him. 

“I’d like to, Father,” replied Jack, and Bob also an- 
swered in the affirmative. 

“Very well, here you are. Take this prescription to 
Maurer’s drug store and have it filled at once. Hurry back 
as quickly as you can for Father Brennan is ill and is 
waiting for it.” 

“All right,” said Jack, and away the two boys started for 
the road. While they were walking down the gravelled 
drive, they met Father Duffy, who was returning from an 
after-dinner stroll. 

“Good afternoon, boys,” remarked he. “Where to, 
now ?”■ 

“We are going to the village for medicine for Father 
Brennan,” answered Jack. 

“Well, don’t you forget, Bob, that we have to practice 
this afternoon. You mustn’t lose a minute of it. Hurry 
along.” 

“We’ll be back in time for practice,” replied Bob. 

“What’s that scrape of the skin you have over the eye 
there, Bob, when did you get that?” asked the priest. 

“Oh, that’s nothing. I got it yesterday when I fell 


78 


ROBERT KANE’S 


against Billie Burke’s boot. It will soon be gone. Billie is 
playing a great game, isn’t he, Father? We’ll sure win 
from St. Thomas’ this year all right.’’ 

“Yes, he is playing a strong game now. I guess that 
little lay off did Bill a world of good.” 

“It wasn’t the lay off, Father. He is now located where 
he belongs, and we are playing as a unit. He is heart and 
soul with every move of the ball,” exclaimed Bob. 

“Maybe that’s it,” knowingly smiled the priest. “But 
hurry along so that you will be back in time.” 

They continued on their journey and soon passed 
through the gate at the beginning of the avenue that lead 
from the highway towards the hall. They then turned 
in the road towards the village. As they did so, a tall, lanky 
country boy, of about seventeen years of age, came strutting 
with long strides up behind them. He was dressed in blue 
overalls and jumper. His big straw hat was slapped on the 
back .of his head, so that it permitted a full view of his 
broad, sunburnt, smiling countenance. His shoes looked 
as if they might have been made for the giant that had 
tumbled with Jack when he scrambled down the bean stalk. 

“Hello, fellers,” he shouted, in a loud, slow drawl. 

“Howdy, rube,” responded Jack. 

“Hello yourself,” chimed in Bob. 

“Where you goin’, to the village ?” then asked the 
country lad. 

“Yes,” answered one of the boys. 

“Good! then I’ll have company. I hate to trudge along 
alone, when there’s a chance to talk to somebody,” said the 
stranger. “My name is Sam Crawford. I work just 
beyond on the Sanderson farm, you’ve seen it, I reckon. 
It’s the greatest farm in Butler County. What’s your 
names?” 

“My name is Greedly Totters,” replied Jack, as he 


SCHOOLDAYS 


79 


winked at Bob. “They generally call me Greed, because I 
always eat everything set upon the table before any one 
else has a chance to fill his stomach.” 

“And mine,” put in Bob, “is Liebert Snosnicks; gen- 
erally called plain Ly because I was never known to tell 
one.” 

“Greed and Ly; two funny names. I never heard the 
like. But you ain’t kiddin’, are you?” 

“Say, don’t you insult us ; kidding is something we 
never do,” pouted the unabashed Jack. 

“Do either of you know my boss, Bill Sanderson, the 
feller that I am workin’ for; he’s the greatest farmer in 
Butler County.” 

“No, I am sorry to say, we don’t know him,” announced 
Bob, “but I met his wife and little kid, Tom, one time.” 

“They’re all right, too, aren’t they; the greatest ever; 
finest woman in Butler County. Ever work on a farm ? I 
suppose not.” 

“No,” responded Jack, “we never did.” 

“Well, you didn’t miss much,” continued Sam. “It’s 
tough goin’. Work, work, all the time. You fellers have 
a lot of fun, don’t you?” 

“Well, we work, too, old man,” assured Jack. 

“Not like I have to,” replied Sam. “Look at our fields ; 
look at our hay, for instance ; it takes a lot of work to get 
it so. It’s the best hay in Butler County. And our pump- 
kins; we are goin’ to take the first prize at the fair this 
year. They are so big that you could crawl into one of 
them.” 

“Some pumpkin,” interrupted Jack, with a smile to Bob. 

“And our beets,” continued Sam, “look at the size of 
them ; so big — so big — ” 

“That four policemen could sleep on one,” seriously put 
in Bob. 


80 


ROBERT KANE’S 


“Oh, well,” said Sam, “you don’t believe me; I won’t 
tell you any more.” 

“Don’t,” pleaded Jack, “you tell it too well.” 

“I wish that I could, get out and play sometimes like you 
fellers do. But I can’t. Sometimes, though, I go huntin’ 
or fishin’. That’s fun. There is the best huntin’ and 
fishin’ in the State right around these parts. Did you ever 
hunt or fish?” 

“Yes,” said Bob, “I hunted once; shall I tell you about 
the wonderful experience I had?” 

“Sure,” answered Sam, as Bob nudged Jack. 

“Well,” began Bob, “it was up on Seeville Lake. See- 
ville Lake, you know, is situated up in the mountains and 
is only about a mile long and half as wide. It is sunk in a 
hole between the high hills and so deep that once a line of 
over a half a mile long was let down in the middle of it 
and wouldn’t touch bottom. It is surrounded by a dense 
wood of trees so large that, as the story goes among the 
folks that live around there, when the Indians used to 
dance a war reel around one of them, twelve of them, hand 
in hand with arms outstretched, could not help but skin 
their shins. They were so tall that, when one of them 
was cut and stripped and set up for a flag pole at the fort, 
which had been built near there, they did not have a flag 
big enough to be seen once it was raised to the top. 

“We had been camping out there for several days and 
had tried to hunt and fish upon every opportunity ; but luck 
had failed us. We had not seen even a chipmunk to blow 
our powder at, nor had a fish even nibbled the bait on the 
end of our hooks. Finally our store of provisions had run 
shy and we had to pack up and start for home. Of course, 
we could have walked away around the lake to the road 
on the other side and that led to the station, but the rocks 
and trees and brush and cliffs made that course very diffi- 
cult, so we determined to paddle across the lake. 


SCHOOLDAYS 


81 


“Now all we had was the one canoe, which was so small 
that only one of us could sit in it and paddle at the same 
time. So it was decided that we should draw straws to 
see who would undress and swim over behind the canoe, 
and then push it back for the other to cross. Well, like in 
everything else, I lost, for I drew the shortest straw. 

“But, true to our agreement, I was soon undressed and 
away I swam after the canoe as it went skimming through 
the water, with one of my friends paddling his way at its 
side. He was safely landed and I pushed the boat back 
again across the lake. When my other pal was safely 
delivered as was the first, Fll be darned, if I hadn’t for- 
gotten to put my clothes and rifle into the tub with him. 
So back to the old camping grounds I had to swim pushing 
the canoe before me. When I got there, I quickly dressed 
and jumped into the boat to join my friends who were 
awaiting me. Then a most peculiar thing happened. 

“Now, as I have told you, all we had seen to shoot at 
for the past two weeks were the leaves on the trees upon 
which we used to try our marksmanship. But, just as I 
pushed myself off from the shore, what do you think? I 
looked down the lake about a hundred feet, and there stood 
a most beautiful deer, drinking water to its heart’s content. 
I got awfully nervous and excited all in a jump. I stooped 
down quietly and picked up my gun, which I had kept 
loaded for just such an occasion, and, when I had placed 
it to my shoulder and sighted it the best I could under the 
conditions, I shut my eyes and pulled the trigger. Bang, 
came the report, and I opened my eyes in time to save 
myself from falling out of the boat. I looked towards the 
bank, but there was no deer to be seen. I was amazed. I 
had often heard of their speed and cleverness, but I did 
not think that they could disappear quite so suddenly. So, 
back I paddled to where I had seen him standing and got 


82 


ROBERT KANE’S 


out and tied my canoe to one of the younger trees, say 
probably a week old, for, as I forgot to tell you, they grew 
about as fast as mushrooms. 

"I then looked about me, but not a trace nor a track of 
the deer could I see. Not even a print in the soft dirt and 
dead leaves that touched the water’s edge. I put my hand 
to my head; had I been dreaming? Wishing to investigate 
further, I walked deeper into the woods and, there upon 
the soil, about a hundred feet from the shore, I discovered 
my victim with a hole bored clean through his head just 
over the eyes. Well, to shorten my story, I, with great 
difficulty, dragged the dead deer quickly down to the water 
and tossed him into the boat. 

‘After I had done this, I began to wonder where my 
bullet had gone, after it had passed through and out of the 
deer’s head. So back I strolled to see if I could find out. 
I did not have to look around very long, for just a little 
ways further back in the woods I found a big bear, who 
had been trying out his strength by hugging a big maple 
tree, as if he would like to tumble it over. But his life was 
gone from out of his body. My bullet had pierced the 
very heart of the poor beast. As I tore him away from his. 
position, I noticed that the sap was pouring from the tree 
like water from a faucet, through a hole which my shot 
had entered. I, by pulls and jerks, got the bear down to 
the canoe and I threw him into it.” 

“Hold on, there,” cried Sam, interrupting him for the 
first time, “I thought you said that that canoe would hold 
only one person?” 

“Ah,” answered the resourceful Bob, “that’s one of the 
things that I neglected to state. This canoe had been made 
from the bark of a peculiar rubber plant which grew in 
the neighborhood, and, when I had thrown the deer into it, 
and it had sailed away towards the middle of the lake, the 


SCHOOLDAYS 


83 


force with which it caught the end of the rope when it 
became taut stretched it out quite a bit. The boat was old 
and the rubber had lost its elasticity and it did not contract 
again. It did the same thing with the bear. 

“Well, now, I didn’t want to see the tree die by bleeding 
itself to death, so back to it I hurried to try to stop the 
sap from flowing. I inserted a finger of my left hand into 
the hole, and stooped to find a twig or something to plug 
it with. As I felt around in the leaves and underbrush, I 
found and picked up a dead rabbit that had just had its head 
severed from its body by the ball that had left my rifle. 
You can imagine how angry this made me and I hurled the 
poor thing from me with such force that, as it fell into the 
shrubbery about sixty feet away, it killed twelve part- 
ridges, which I afterwards collected. 

“I had had enough hunting for one day, so I thought I 
would quit and get back to the boys, who were probably, by 
this time, getting nervous over my delay. I went down to 
the canoe aiid determined, after noting how thin the bottom 
had become on account of the stretching it had received, to 
push it across as I swam after it. It was growing dark 
and I knew that I wouldn’t have time to undress and dress 
again, if I wished to get my prizes to the station and to 
catch the train. In I plunged without taking off even my 
coat. Gee, it was some load. But I made it in time, and, 
when I had crawled out upon the shore on the opposite side 
and had joined my friends, I sat down to let the water out 
of my boots. Would you believe it, they were full of 
speckled trout. Well, we got our train, all right, and 
arrived home pretty well pleased with the trip, because I 
divided everything I had shot with my pals. About a 
month afterwards, the President heard of my wonderful 
shot and wrote a letter to my father in which he offered 
to pay all the expenses if Dad would permit me to continue 


84 


ROBERT KANE’S 


to keep in practice with my rifle, and that the government 
would give me a commission, just as soon as I had become 
of age, and would place me in command of a regiment of 
sharp shooters. But Dad does not want me to become a 
soldier. There’s the drug store across the street, Sam, and 
we’ll have to leave you now. We’ll see you again, some- 
time. So-long.” 

Bob and Jack, without a wrinkle in their faces, left Sam, 
who stood dumbfounded on the board sidewalk. They 
hurried directly up the three steps and into the store. After 
they had entered, they looked around at him, and saw him 
digging heavily at a spot in his hair just between the rim of 
his great straw hat and his big right ear. He shook his 
head, as he turned away, with a skeptical expression upon 
his face. Then our friends burst into a loud laugh. 

“That was some hunting expedition you had, Bobby, old 
boy, believe me,” said Jack. “How in the deuce did you 
ever think of such stuff! It was a whopper.” 

“I don’t know,” answered Bob; “it came along easy 
enough after I got started. I guess I am a natural born 
liar.” 

“Easy,” exclaimed Jack ; “why, I would have to lie awake 
nights to think up that one. But, the rube; he fell for it, 
didn’t he?” 

“Don’t be too sure,” returned Bob. “I hope he knew in 
the end that it was only a story, for I wouldn’t want even 
him to think that I was really trying to get away with a lie 
to him. But he did look at us funny when we left him ; I 
guess he’s wise to me, all right.” 

“Well, we can see him and fix it up,” ventured Jack. 

“Oh, no,” replied Bob, “that would spoil the fun.” 

Jack gave Father Brennan’s prescription to the druggist 
and told him that they would return for it in about twenty 
minutes or so, and they went out to take a stroll about the 


SCHOOLDAYS 


85 


town. Several times, as they walked, they passed or noticed 
Sam while he was performing his various duties, but he did 
not look their way or speak to them. Bob theri realized that 
Sam knew that he had been lying, and that the country lad 
had taken offense at it, for he thought that the boys were 
making little of him. This annoyed Bob, and made him 
rather penitent. He began to calculate in his mind in what 
manner he might square himself with the country boy, with- 
out making matters worse than they now were. 

When the twenty minutes were about up, he and Jack 
returned to the drug store, and, having procured their pur- 
chase, they started back to St. Patrick’s. They had reached 
the gate and were about to enter the college grounds, when 
thundering down the road in back of them came an old farm 
wagon with Sam and another boy sitting on the seat. 

“Wait a second, Jack/’ said Bob. 

“Say, Sam,” he continued, as he hailed the driver to stop, 
which he did, “I forgot to tell you. After we got home 
from that hunting trip, we were arrested for shooting certain 
kind of game out of season, and I was locked in the pen for 
ninety days. When the judge pronounced sentence upon me, 
what do you think he said to me ?” 

“That you were the slickest liar that he had ever met,” 
flashed Sam. 

“Right-o,” roared Bob, “and the biggest one in Butler 
County.” 


3 


86 


ROBERT KANE’S 


CHAPTER VI. 

MR. KANE VISITS BOB. 

NE night, at about io o’clock, on the first Thursday 
in November, long after Bob had gone to his bed 
and to sweet dreams of his dear Aunty, Father 
Doyle’s telephone bell rang, while he was finishing 
his office for the day. He rose from his big easy-chair and 
walked slowly to the wall on which the telephone hung. 

“Hello, hello,” he shouted into the mouthpiece after he 
had placed the receiver to his ear. 

“Hello,” came the answer across the wire, “this is Mr. 
Kane speaking. I am the father of Robert Kane, one of 
your pupils. I wish to talk with Father Doyle — I believe 
that that is the name — the Director of St. Patrick’s.” 

“Yes,” responded the priest, “Father Doyle. I am he. 
How are you, Mr. Rape?” 

“Very well, Father; and how are you?” 

“Fine, fine for an old man. But, where are you?” 

“I am at the hotel here in Melville, Father, and have 
taken rooms for the night.” 

“Tut, tut, you can’t do that. You must come here at 
once. I shall send for you immediately.” 

“No, please don’t do so, Father, for I am comfortably 
located and will not bother you at this time of night. I am 
sorry that I did not arrive earlier, but I had business to 
attend to and could not reach here until the last train in. 
Besides, my sister, Robert’s Aunt Mary, is accompanying 
me, and she is, by this time, tucked well in her bed.” 



SCHOOLDAYS 


87 


“I understand/’ said the Director, “but are you sure that 
you are both comfortably situated ?” 

“We are, thank you, Father. I called you up to notify 
you of our arrival, so that, if possible, you might permit us 
to see Robert early in the morning. I am not well informed 
as to your rules and customs.” 

“You may see your son as early as you wish,” assured the 
priest. 

“Thank you, Father. Now, may I ask, might we not 
attend mass in the chapel in the morning? My sister is a 
constant churchgoer and I would have to tie her to her bed 
to keep her from her daily devotions.” 

“I say mass in the chapel at 7 o’clock. It will please me 
very much if you attend at it. By the bye, your Robert is 
to serve it.” 

“Our Robert ! My Lord, what has come over him and 
how did you do it ? What miracle is this ? Please don’t let 
the boy know that we are here nor tell his Aunty that he is 
to serve you at mass.” 

“Oh, that is not wonderful ; he has been serving mass 
now for some time. Hasn’t he mentioned the fact in any of 
his letters home ?” 

“Not a word about it, the young scamp. But, Father, 
may we confess before mass in the morning? Mary wishes 
to receive on the first Friday.” 

“I will hear confessions for fifteen minutes before I go 
to the altar. I will see that you have an opportunity to con- 
fess. Please come a little early.” 

“Thank you. Now, Father, if you will tell me how to get 
out to the college grounds, I will say good-night and go to 
arrange for a conveyance.” 

“You will do no such a thing,” replied the priest, “for I 
will see that our carriage is at the hotel door in ample time 
to get you out here.” 


88 


ROBERT KANE'S 


“That will be fine, and I thank you again. .Good night, 
Father Doyle.” 

“Good night, Mr. Kane. My regards to your sister.” 

“I shall deliver them, thank you.” 

Thus it happened, on the next morning, the first Friday 
of November, that Mr. Kane and his sister Mary rose early 
and drove over to St. Patrick’s College, which they had 
never seen but which they thought that they knew so well 
because of the many descriptions that Bob had written con- 
cerning it. They had arrived at the chapel’s big broad door- 
way in time to make their confessions to Father Doyle, and, 
for some minutes had been kneeling in prayer as they re- 
peated the penance that the good priest had imposed upon 
them. Some few of the neighboring farmers and their 
assistants had also come to the mass and had taken their 
places with them in the extreme right tier of pews that 
stretched backwards from the altar of the Most Blessed 
Virgin. Soon they heard the tramp of many feet, and, 
since Aunt Mary could not contain herself, she turned her 
head around and saw a great number of boys and young men 
come marching into the chapel and up the centre aisle. They 
marched orderly and quietly, two by two, and, when they 
had reached the seat that was being assigned by the admon- 
itor, Dan Phelan, who stood at their head, they devoutly 
genuflected and entered the pew. Aunt Mary watched every 
face and every move of the boys. Finally all had found 
their places and had knelt in prayer. Aunt Mary felt heart- 
sick ; she had not seen her Robert ; where was he ? 

“Robert is not among them,” softly whispered she to her 
brother. “I wonder why? Can he be ill? I didn’t see 
him.” 

“Oh, he’s all right, Mary. Don’t worry about him. If all 
these young men have come to mass, he’ll be here too, with- 
out doubt. Pray, woman, pray,” replied Mr. Kane. 


SCHOOLDAYS 


89 


Mary turned again towards the altar and did as she had 
been bidden, but her prayers were all for the boy she had 
missed ; the dear lad that must be ill and needing her. Poor 
Robert ! 

Soon the peals of a great gong came trembling through 
the church, and the boys rose to their feet as if they were a 
solid mass, and then the others followed them. The door 
leading from the sanctuary to the vestry had been thrown 
open, and, through it, a young man, in black cassock and 
white surplice, before Father Doyle, in all his vestments, 
walked quickly and reverently to the foot of the steps that 
led up to the beautiful marble altar. The Kanes had taken 
a pew from which they could not see their faces as they 
entered and as they stood or knelt in front of them. The 
young man dropped quietly to his knees, and the priest bent 
slightly forward; the mass had been begun. Mary’s head 
had been bent in prayer for probably five minutes, when the 
echo of the young man’s voice, as he responded with “Deo 
Gratias,” softly touched her ear. She raised her eyes with 
a start, but all she saw was a young man bow lowly and 
piously upon one knee and then ascend and stand at the side 
of the priest while he read the epistle. But that lazy stride ; 
that sway of those shoulders. She knew them both so well 
that nothing could deceive her once she had seen them. She 
could not remove her sight from him. She forgot all else 
for the moment; even the beads that now lay idly in her 
fingers. She watched him as the priest turned towards the 
center of the altar ; as he, the young man, rose quickly up 
another step to the position that the holy man had just left; 
as he raised the heavy missal from the marble slab ; as he 
partly turned and bowed respectfully to the priest; as he 
descended the steps, genuflected and ascended again to the 
opposite side of the altar, where he gently laid the book and 
moved to one side. 


90 


ROBERT RARE'S 


“It’s Robert, our Robert,” she exclaimed in a whisper to 
her brother. “Our Robert, and he is serving mass. Don’t 
you see him; don’t you recognize him? May God be 
praised !” 

“Yes,” softly answered her brother, who was probably as 
happy as she, “I see our Robert serving mass ; and may God 
be praised. But, hear mass, my dear Mary; pray and be 
quiet.” 

Mary again began to press her beads, and, as she passed 
them through her trembling fingers, she did pray, and well, 
too, for the boy that had unknowingly given her the happi- 
ness that she now enjoyed. But Bob, dear boy ! He con- 
tinued to perform his duties with his mind firmly set upon 
the great sacrifice that was going on before him. Little did 
he dream that just a few feet in his rear sat the two people 
that he loved most in all the world. I don’t believe it would 
have moved him at that time, if he really did know. He 
brought the cruets containing the wine and the water; he 
poured the water on the fingers of his dear Director and 
handed him the linen towel, with only the thought that by 
doing so he was participating in the performance of the 
greatest function that had been granted to mankind. He 
sounded the gong at the elevation, thinking only of the ador- 
ation he could give to the God that had now become present 
before him, in the form of the Sacred Host. He sounded it 
again as the priest consumed this Host and meekly bowed to 
declare to Him that he was most unworthy but “say the word 
and my soul shall be clean.” Then he arose to his feet, and, 
picking up the communion card, he ascended to the top step 
of the altar, where he knelt. When he did so, there was a 
noise behind him, and hundreds of feet began to march 
prderly to the rail. Bob bowed in his confiteor. Father 
Doyle then turned in all the majesty that only we who have 
known can appreciate ; only we of the faith can contemplate. 


SCHOOLDAYS 


91 


Quickly he stepped to the side of Bob and placed upon his 
projecting tongue the Host of his God and Redeemer. The 
boy bowed in his adoration, and then quickly rose to follow 
the priest to the railing, where he held the communion card 
under the chins of his schoolmates, who also were receiving 
their God in honor of the day that it happened to be. 

After the students and the Brothers had returned to 
their places, the others of the congregation proceeded to the 
altar rail, and, Bob again followed Father Doyle to the 
far end to assist him. When he reached to place the card 
under the chin of the first lady in line, his hand began to 
tremble and the card fell from it to the carpet. As he 
stooped to recover it, he very softly uttered just the one 
word, “Aunty.” That was the only evidence of Bob’s 
surprise. He then proceeded as before until he and the 
priest returned to the altar. When mass had been com- 
pleted they returned to the vestry. Bob then quickly 
removed his cassock and surplice and went out into the 
church where he joined his schoolmates while they re- 
sponded to Dan Phelan in the prayers of thanksgiving for 
the blessing that had just been bestowed upon them. When 
they had finished and had risen to depart from the chapel, 
a Brother touched Bob lightly upon the shoulder and 
whispered to him : 

“Robert, Father Doyle wishes you to come to the vestry 
at once.” 

Bob returned to the vestry and, when he had crossed the 
threshold he rushed into the arms of his father, who stood 
beaming with pleasure and joy. 

“Dad, oh, dad, I am so glad to see you.” 

Then he released himself and, assisted by a gentle shove 
from his father’s hands he walked slowly over to his Aunt, 
who sat smiling at him through eyes that were dimmed by 
her tears of untold pride and happiness. 


92 


ROBERT KANE’, S 


“Aunty, dear Aunty,” cried Bob as he grabbed her in 
his strong, boyish arms, when she had arisen to meet him, 
“I am so happy. And you never told your rough-neck that 
you were coming. You surprised me. Oh, joy!” 

“Bob, dear,” she said, “we thought that you would be 
happier if we did so. My ! how you have grown ; how well 
you look. The good priests must treat you well here. Are 
you lonesome or homesick? I was so happy to see you 
serving mass.” 

“Yes, I’m well,” responded Bob, in an attempt to answer 
all the questions which she had so hurriedly put to him. “I 
am glad that you so surprised me. It made my heart jump 
for the minute. The Fathers treat us fine. I am never 
lonesome or homesick for I am never alone and I think of 
home only as one of the greatest joys that the future has 
in store for me. I am delightd, too, that I was serving 
mass, when you came to me, for I know it pleased you.” 

“Well, Bob,” said Mr. Kane, when he turned again from 
Father Doyle, who had been silently watching the affec- 
tionate meeting of the boy and his beloved people, “how 
are you? Are you ready to return home with us? Your 
Aunt Mary says that she can no longer live without you.’” 

“Yes, if either you or Aunt Mary really wish me to, but 
I would rather stay and finish it out here.” 

“All right, if you don’t care for us any more, we’ll let 
you stay,” laughed Mr. Kane, “but I expected you would 
want to return with us.” 

Bob knew that he was joking. 

“I would like to be with you and Aunt Mary, dad, but I 
want to finish at St. Pat’s, too.” 

“And finish you shall, for, I see that it is working 
wonders in you.” 

“Now,” said Father Doyle, who had not entered into the ' 
conversation up to this time, “Bob, you run along and tell 


SGHOOLDAY S 


93 


Phelan to excuse you from your classes to-day, and then 
join us in the private dining room just off of the refectory. 
We will breakfast there.” And Bob hurried away to do< 
as he was told. 

While they leisurely walked from the vestry to the big 
building directly behind the hall, and listened to the history 
and narrative that the priest told them concerning the 
various features of the grounds and the buildings con- 
structed upon them, Mr. Kane interrupted him. 

“Tell me, Father, how is my son getting on with you?” 

“Very well, indeed,” answered the priest. 

“Is he a good student?” again inquired Mr. Kane. 

“Yes, from all reports, very good,” again answered 
Father Doyle. 

“I am delighted to hear it. We could do nothing with 
him at home, Father; he seemed to abhor books,” continued 
the father of the boy. 

“My dear Mr. Kane, Bob’s is a peculiar character, you 
can not push him to any great extent. He will do things, 
from his own free will, or he will not do them at all. When 
he first arrived, he began to study very diligently, but it 
was not through any persuasion on my part and I am sure 
that it was not because he was urged on verbally by any of 
my associates. He seems to have a purpose for getting 
down to hard work and he is determined to realize that 
purpose. I imagine that it is to please you and Miss 
Kane.” 

“Just as I have often said, Father, just as I have 
remarked to Mary a hundred times. Just let him alone; 
he’ll make it. Is he careless or negligent?” 

“Mr. Kane,” replied the priest, “You must not expect 
too much from your son ; he is still very young. At times, 
he is quite thoughtless and does many things for which he 
soon becomes remorseful. But, I have noticed, that he 


94 


ROBERT KANE’S 


realizes his weakness because I can see evidence of a 
struggle going on within himself, as he tries to master it. I 
believe he will do so too.” 

“I am glad, Father, that you can give so fine a report of 
him.” 

“My advice concerning the boy, Mr. Kane,” volunteered 
the priest, “would be to permit him to proceed in his own 
manner, and to encourage him in his efforts, when you can ; 
never try to persuade him unless he is absolutely in the 
wrong. He has noble inclinations and he will not go far 
on the downward path from now on. Obstacles and diffi- 
culties will not amount to much in the long run as they 
spring up before him, because he will surely mount the one 
and as surely circumscribe the other. The boy loves you 
and his Aunty intensely and his thoughts of you will ever 
keep him in truth and virtue, I do believe.” 

“What do you think we should make of him?” modestly 
ventured Mary. 

“Dear lady,” responded the Director, “it is my opinion 
that you can do nothing to make your boy. He will make 
himself by the grace of Almighty God.” 

“Do you think he has the making of a priest in him?” 
she asked. 

“Lordy, oh, Lordy,” laughed her brother; “you expect 
too much of the boy.” 

“I can’t say,” exclaimed the good man, “nor can any one 
else. I see no extraordinary indications about him that 
would lead me to anticipate that he had a calling to the 
priesthood ; but one can never tell.” 

“Father,” said Mr. Kane “no one in this world would 
be happier than I, if I were to see my son, Robert, perform 
the holy sacrifice of the mass, as I saw you perform it this 
morning; but I cannot imagine such a thing of him. The 
only portrait that I have ever depicted in my mind’s eye 
of him is, that he will be a doctor of medicine.” 


SCHOOLDAYS 


95 


“That is a noble profession,” remarked the priest, “but 
I would not want to venture to say that he would be that. 
He is still young and time will tell." 

By this time, they had come to the dining room and 
found Bob already there waiting for them. This breakfast 
proved to be a very pleasant meal. While they ate, Mr. 
Kane and the priest kept up a lively conversation, in which 
the father of our hero jocosely and laughingly related to 
the priest, sitting at his side, many of the pranks that Bob 
had performed long before he or his father had given any 
thought of his ever going away to school. Nor did he spare 
his sister in many of his tales. The priest, too, laughed 
and, in turn, told on Bob some of the many things that he 
had failed to write them. But he did so in all his kindness. 
Bob had no occasion to blush, but, about all the time, had 
to join in the glee around him. Mr. Kane and Aunt Mary 
seemed to enjoy what had been set upon the table before 
them and neither refused the second helping which Father 
Doyle insistently attended to. 

When the meal was finished, Father Doyle excused 
himself, after having rquested Bob to show his people about 
the place. Bob did so. While they passed on their tour 
of inspection, he brought them into the dormitory, and 
showed them the long tiers of little iron cots, neatly covered 
with the white spreads that reached . nearly to the floor. 
Aunty Mary insisted that he point out his own cot to her 
and, when he had done so, she went over to it and began 
to perform a very thorough examination of it as if to assure 
herself that it was soft and comfortable. She seemed 
satisfied. On the way down stairs, he presented them to 
the oratory, where the boys were wont to gather in the 
morning to recite their prayers and to indulge in a short 
meditation upon the life of the saint of the day, and, where 
they would assemble again before retiring to pray 


96 


ROBERT KANE'S 


and to examine their consciences. He lead them to the 
doors of the study hall and the class rooms. In the base- 
ment of one of the buildings they stopped in the refectory, 
where, three times each day, regularly, the boys sat before 
the tables to partake of the wholesome food that was fur- 
nished by the faithful brothers who worked in the kitchen. 
Then they saw the gymnasium, the yards, the lawns, the 
handball alleys, the athletic field, the baseball diamond, the 
lake, all of which have already been described. 

When they had returned and walked around to the front 
of the priests’ house, they noticed a fine team of horses-, 
hitched to a very comfortable looking double-seated car- 
riage, standing and pawing upon the drive. Father Doyle 
smiled to them from his position in the front seat where 
he sat holding the reins in his hands. 

“Climb in, Mr. Kane, and all of you, and I will show you 
the country about here.” 

“Fine,” exclaimed Mr. Kane, who began to climb into 
the carriage to Father Doyle’s side on the front seat. “An 
elegant day for a drive. Help your Aunty in, Robert.” 

This last remark was quite unnecessary for the lad had 
already seized her by the arm as she advanced to ascend. 

Soon they were whirling swiftly over the highway 
behind the pair of fine horses. The priest had turned their 
heads in a direction .just opposite to that which lead into 
Melville and, consequently, they had, in a short time, 
reached the spot that had been the scene of the wreck in 
which our hero had taken so prominent a part. Mr. Kane 
insisted upon stopping so that he could get out and examine 
it more closely. 

“Come along, Bob, and tell me about it,” said he, when 
the carriage came to a standstill. 

Bob jumped nimbly down and lead his father over the 
fence and down to the track. He then began to point out 


SCHOOLDAYS 


97 


to him the features that have already been narrated. But he 
did so modestly, however, and in such a way that much of 
the credit due his heroic actions seemed to belong to some- 
one else. He made Jacob Steinberg the hero and, when he 
had finished, he turned to his father and said : 

“Father this Jake is a Jew, but a prince of a fellow. I 
would like to see him get a chance to make something of 
himself besides a news butcher upon a slow train. Do you 
think I would be asking too much of you, if I should ask 
you to give him a job in your store?” 

“Bob, you shouldn’t be asking me to place every Tom, 
Dick and Harry whom you happen to meet and who seem 
Jo strike your fancy.” 

“Dad, I never asked such a thing of you before. I often 
remember your telling me to always keep my word. You 
always keep yours, don’t you?” 

“You bet I do, Bob, no matter the cost.” 

“Well dad, I promised to do something for Jake, for 
sticking to me ; fo 7 r his helping me over the track and out 
of the smoke that was suffocating the both of us. But what 
can I do for him, unless you help me? I am only a kid.” 

“Why, Bob, what can I do for him? He probably 
couldn’t earn half his wages in the store. And he surely 
would not come to work for me unless he got money enough 
to support a good-sized family.” 

“He is not much older than I, dad. He might make a 
salesman for you, in time. He seems to be able to talk 
people into buying now. But I’ll drop the matter and say 
no more about it, since you do not approve of it.” 

“Do so, Bob; I think it best. You say his name is 
Jacob Steinberg and that he works upon this line?” 

“Yes, dad.” 

They drove still further along the road and up into the 
hills and the woodland and where they beheld a beautiful 


98 


ROBERT KANE’S 


view of the surrounding country. On their way back to 
the college, shortly before noon, they passed the Sanderson 
farm and saw the little Thomas and his sister as they played 
upon the grass in front of the house. But they did not 
stop. While they drove along, Father Doyle pointed the 
boy out to Mr. Kane and Bob shouted a ‘‘Hello, Tom.” 

After they had returned again to the private dining 
room where they partook of another much appreciated 
meal, both Mr. Kane and Aunt Mary had an opportunity 
to see Bob’s schoolmates, as they romped and played 
throughout the recess. They both accompanied Bob to the 
ball grounds, for the boys were still playing baseball, and 
there they made the acquaintance of Frank Grace, Billie 
Burke, Clarence Murphy and several others of his friends. 
Then Father Doyle again joined them and took them away 
to the veranda that we have said extended across the front 
of the priests’ house, and gave them an opportunity to rest 
themselves. Several of the other priests joined them and 
entered into the pleasant conversation concerning mostly 
the general topics of the day. While they smoked and 
talked, they did not seem to notice the time as it went 
slipping by. However, Bob called their attention to the 
fact by stating that it was time for him to prepare himself 
for the practice upon the gridiron. 

“But,” exclaimed his father, “surely, after missing your 
classes and studies all day, you can let your football prac- 
tice go, too, can’t you?” 

“No, dad” replied the boy. “To-morrow is the big game, 
you know, and then football will be over for this year. I 
haven’t missed a practice since I began to play, and, as this 
is the last, I hope you’ll excuse me and permit me to go. 
We must win tomorrow and I must be fully prepared to 
do my share in it. May I go?” 

“Go, Bob,” responded Mr. Kane, with a smile upon his 


SCHOOLDAYS 


99 


lips. ‘‘And may good luck go with you. I hope you’ll 
win.” 

‘‘We’ll win all right,” and away he ran. 

Because it was the day just before the big game and not 
wishing to tire the players out, or to run the risk of having 
any of them hurt, Father Duffy did not permit the boys to 
work very hard that afternoon. After a short signal 
practice, and some goal kicking, and passing of the ball, 
he told them all to trot around the quarter mile track a 
couple of times and then to dress. 

Father Doyle awaited Bob, before he asked Mr. Kane 
and his sister to prepare for supper. When they had at 
last seated themselves again, Mr. Kane said to his son 
across the table: 

“Well Bob, how did you make out this afternoon?” 

“Pretty well, dad ; we’re all ready for them.” 

“Good. I wish I could see the game.” 

“What, won’t you see it, dad?” 

“No, Bob, we are going to start towards home to-night 
on the nine-thirty train. I’m sorry.” 

“Oh, dad,” exclaimed Bob, in a tone of disappointment. 

*‘Tm sorry, son, but I have business to attend to and I 
wish to do so on my way home. We are going to stop over 
in Silvertown to-night, and will not arrive at home until 
late Saturday.” 

“Please, dad, can’t you telephone your business?” 

“I might, Bob, but I don’t like to in this particular 
affair.” 

Father Doyle came to Bob’s assistance. 

“•If you will stay, Mr. Kane, we will make you com- 
fortable, and we will be pleased, indeed, to have you witness 
the game.” 

“Your Aunt Mary is getting too homesick, Bob,” 
laughed Mr. Kane. 


100 


ROBERT KANE’S 


“Indeed I’m not, Peter, and, if you care to please Robert 
by staying to see him play to-morrow I shall get along all 
right in the meantime and shall be happy to wait over with 
you.” 

“I surrender,” roared Bob’s father. “All right, we’ll 
stay; but you lose if we do.” 

“I’ll bet we don’t,” chimed in Bob. 

“What is it that you will bet, Bob?” asked Mr. Kane. 

“Whatever you say, dad,” replied Bob. “I’m that sure 
of winning.” 

“Well, if you lose, I’ll stay over until Sunday night, and, 
if you win, I’ll do any one thing that you may ask of me, 
providing that it is within reason.” Mr. Kane thought that 
under those arrangements Bob would insist upon his staying 
anyhow. 

“It’s a go, dad ; shall I ask it now ?” 

“Not until you have won, you scamp.” 

“Oh well, a day won’t matter much,” exclaimed Bob in 
his happiness. 



SCHOOLDAYS 


101 


CHAPTER VII 

THE FOOTBALL GAME. 

N the following day, as the sun came peeping over 
the distant hills, the boys in the dormitory of St. 
Patrick’s College leaped lightly from their cots. 
As they looked out of the windows and saw the 
glory in which Old Sol nestled upon the eastern horizon, 
their features became almost as radiant. The cool water, 
into, which they soon plunged their hands and with which 
they drenched their faces, opened up their half-closed eyes 
and brought smiles of joy to their silent lips. They hurriedly 
dressed and tip-toed their way down to the oratory, where 
Rather Doyle, deep in meditation, sat awaiting them. When 
prayers had been finished and Phelan had read a short 
synopsis of the life of St. Leonard, the Hermit, they, too, sat 
back, with folded arms, to contemplate upon the holiness of 
the saint. Father Doyle, then, from his seat at one side and 
in the rear, spoke as follows: 

“My dear young men: To-day you are filled with an 
excitement of a possible victory over a football team at 
whose hands you have met defeat for the past two years. 
Your minds are on other things than books and studies. I 
hope that before the sun has set this evening you will have 
realized your anticipations; your desires. I am going to 
declare this a holiday, and excuse you from all classes, in 



102 


ROBERT KANE’S 


honor of the occasion. I trust that, at no time during the 
stay of our neighbors, will you forget that you are gentle- 
men. When the students of St. Thomas’ Academy arrive on 
the eleven-thirty train, receive them kindly as visitors to 
your home, and show them all the courtesy of Christian 
hospitality. If, when the game is over, we have to face the 
disappointment that may possibly come to us, remember 
that defeat is never necessarily disgrace only in as much as 
we ourselves make it so. I expect that the men, who will 
represent us on the firing line, will do so as fairly and as 
squarely as we believe they will ; fighting every minute until 
the game is over. The others of us will do our share as man- 
fully as we can; rooting for them no matter how the tide 
may turn. We will stand by them in defeat as loyally as we 
will if they win. See that no dishonor comes to us. See that 
our friends return to Chesterfield with a good impression of 
us. Now go, and enjoy the day.” 

Long before the eleven-thirty train had pulled into Mel- 
ville, the students of St. Patrick’s had gathered upon the 
lawns about the college in full force, excepting the two dozen 
young men who were prepared to participate in the after- 
noon’s game. Their band, with Father Sullivan at its head, 
began to march away to the quick step of a popular tune of 
the day, and they all fell in behind it in an orderly line of 
fours. Arms had been outstretched and the hands placed 
upon the shoulders of the boys on either side. Down the 
avenue they marched and all the other priests and brothers 
stood by and smilingly waved to them. They raised their 
strong voices in a song to the air that the band was playing. 
Into the road they turned and started for the village, with 
Father Sullivan still at their head, walking backwards half 
of the distance, as he beat the time first with one hand and 
then with the other. He and they only laughed at the dust 
he raised as it covered him from the top of his hat to the 


SCHOOLDAYS 


103 


sole of his shoes. All the country boys for miles around 
trudged at their heels, and many of them, that were better 
known, joined in the celebration, when they were invited to. 
As they passed through the town, men and boys came run- 
ning out of the stores and shops and houses, many to follow 
them, while they tramped their way to the railroad station, 
at which they at last arrived. 

After several minutes, the train dashed into view, when 
it rounded the curve some distance down the track. The 
whistle of the one mill that Melville possessed began to toot- 
toot, while the engine and its coaches came to a stand-still. 
The band had been playing “There’ll Be a Hot Time in the 
Old Town To-night.” The boys accompanied it in more of 
a shout than a song, and the St. Thomas boys came scram- 
bling down the steps. The village saw this sight but twice a 
year : upon this occasion and again in the late spring when 
baseball was at its height. 

“Fall in,” yelled Father Sullivan, and back to the college 
they marched, in similar manner, excepting the boys who 
were to play for St. Thomas’, who were seated in the priests’ 
big carryall. 

But I must not forget to state another fact that had just 
occurred. Mr. Kane and his sister Mary had slept late that 
morning, and had but just finished their breakfast, when the 
boys came marching into town. 

“What in the devil is that racket,” exclaimed Bob’s 
father, and he jumped up and ran to the sidewalk in front 
of the hotel. He soon knew, however, and, as the boys went 
marching by, he grabbed off his soft hat to wave to them, 
and he joined, noisily, in the sport. When the last man had 
passed him, he stood, for a moment, following them with his 
merry eyes, and then, pulling his hat well down upon his 
head, he started after them in a brisk walk. He, finally, 
reached the station and advanced into their midst, for he did 


104 


ROBERT KANE’S 


not seem to mind in the least the shoving and the pushing 
that was going on among them. Whether or not he yelled 
and shouted with the rest, as the train pulled in, I do not 
know, because the noise was too great for me to hear him 
from where I stood watching him. But I do know, that his 
hat was off and his mouth was constantly open in his hearty 
laugh. I saw him, too, as he grabbed Father Sullivan by the 
arm and marched back at his side as far as the hotel, right 
up through the middle of the street. 

“I’ll see you later, Father,” I heard him say, when Jie 
left us. “I am glad that I stayed over.” 

“Mary, old girl,” he exclaimed, when he had returned to 
her side, “you’ll have to dust your old black bonnet and 
come along with me this afternoon. You must see that 
mob.” 

“Why, Peter,” replied the astonished sister, “what ails 
you? Are you getting silly as your hairs begin to turn?” 

“Silly, my eye ; shut up your chatter. You’re going with 
me to see the game.” 

“All right, Peter ; I’ll go with you but, for heaven’s sake, 
calm yourself,” responded the very much surprised lady. 

The parade soon reached St. Patrick’s and, as it was 
now noon, the boys were ushered into the refectory, where 
extra tables had been set and where they immediately began 
to fill their stomachs with many good things that they liked. 
When dinner had been finished they were permitted to 
stroll around as they pleased. In about an hour or so, the 
players had been called together and they wended their way 
to the dressing rooms just off of the gymnasium. Then the 
carriages of the farmers and the townspeople began to 
arrive and collect in the space about the gridiron. Pro- 
grammes or score cards had been distributed by three or 
four of the boys and everyone began to study the line-up 
for the fray. 


SCHOOLDAYS 


105 


The line-up was as follows: 


ST. 

Patrick’s. 

ST. THOMAS’. 

Regulars 

Substitutes Pos. Regulars 

Substitutes 

Quinn 

Farrell 

L. E. McCormack 

Lewis 

Ross 

McGuire 

L.T. McNiff 

McNamara 

Dooley 

Brown 

L. G. Dunn 

Coughlan 

Phelan, Capt. .O’Brien * 

C. Pulman 

McClellan 

LaDue 

O’Connor 

R. G. O’Rourcke 

Smith 

Murphy 

Tracy 

R. T. DuMont 

Lunn 

Flanagan 

Larkin 

R. E. Brennan 

Shea 

Donohue 

Eschwei 

Q. Tighe 

Scanlon 

Grace 

Leary 

L. H. Kenney 

Broderick 

Burke 

Smythe 

R. H. Auryansen 

Toughy 

Kane 

Hendricks 

F. B. Burns, Capt. 

Rank 


Referee — Father Duffy. 

Umpire — Father Glenn. 

Linesmen — Maloney and Paterson. 

Timekeepers — McCarthy and Nickols. 

Bob was about the last man to finish pulling on his 
moleskins and getting ready for the battle upon the gridiron, 
and, as he was slowly walking to the field and passing 
between the carriages that were standing in his way, he 
heard a young voice shout to him: , i v - 

“Hello, angel ! Have you got any feathers in your wings 
yet?” 

Bob looked up and saw little Tom Sanderson perched 
upon the knee of his big, robust, red-faced father. “No, 
boy ; not yet,” he replied, but he did not stop to say more. 

When he stepped out into the full view of those in the 
grand stand that had been constructed just opposite the 
track, a loud and continuous yell of boyish voices rent 
the air. 


106 


ROBERT KANE’S 


“Rah, rah, rah, ziz boom baa, 

Hip zoo sazoo, Jimmie blow your bazoo, 

Hip sicky ikey, St. Paddy’s, boom.” 

“What’s the matter with Kane?” shouted Father 
Sullivan. 

“He’s all right,” yelled the boys. 

“Who’s all right?” roared the priest. 

“Kane, he is, he is, he is all right,” shouted the boys. 

“Why?” screeched the excited man. 

“Because. Kane, K — A — N — E, Kane,” cried the boys. 

Bob did not raise his eyes from the ground before him 
but he did not know whether or not his feet were under him 
as he continued his way to the middle of the field where his 
teammates had collected. 

A coin had been tossed into the air and, when it had 
landed in the grass, the St. Thomas boys had won the first 
advantage of the day. They chose the ball and St. Patrick 
had the goal. The two teams lined up and, when the ball 
had been placed in the center of the field, Burns ran for 
about twenty feet and met it with the toe of his big, wide 
boot, and it went sailing through the air. The game had 
been begun. 

Donohue made a neat catch of Burns’ kick but he did 
not get far with the ball. While the St. Thomas boys came 
charging down upon him he took too long in looking about 
him, and McNifT threw him heavily to the ground on his 
own thirty-yard line. 

“Four forty-two, thirty-six,” he yelled, as he scrambled 
to his feet. This was the signal for Grace to round the 
end. The ball was snapped and was passed back to him and 
he started behind Burke and Kane towards the opposite 
end of the line. But big Buster Brown was too quick for 
them, and when he tore into poor Frank and hurled him to 
the ground, the ball bounded from Frank’s arms, and rolled 


SCHOOLDAYS 


107 


along the turf towards St. Patrick’s goal. Like a flash, 
Tighe scooped it up, and started down the field. But Bob, 
who had turned, when he felt his teammate fall behind him, 
was after Tighe like mad and, as he threw himself headlong 
into the air in a dive for St. Thomas’ quarter he hit him a 
terrific blow with his shoulder and both fell in the dust. 
The ball rested upon St. Patrick’s one foot line. 

A cry of joy went out from the St. Thomas rooters and, 
for the moment, the St. Patrick’s supporters were silent. 

“Put it over, put it over,” they sang in the northern end 
of the grand stand. Nothing came from the southern end 
until the lull. Then Bob heard the deep, clear voice of his 
father shout, “Put it over, put it over” for the poor man 
did not know for whom they were cheering. Bob smiled 
as he thought, “My Dad’s a game sport ; he will cheer for 
either side.” 

“Hold ! hold ! hold !” now came the cry from the southern 
end, and they began to stamp their feet upon the floor of 
the stand, and “hold, hold, hold,” shouted Mr. Kane, as he, 
too, tapped the boards under his feet. 

“Fifty, eighty-nine, a hundred and eighty-two,” cried 
Tighe, and Burns came rushing, with bent body and 
crouched head, into Murphy, and they did hold. Not an 
inch was gained. 

“Seventy-nine, eighty-nine, two hundred and forty- 
eight,” yelled Tighe, and Burns again came crashing into the 
mass before him, and Dooley gave way and let him through. 
St. Thomas’ had scored. “Hurrah,” shouted the north end 
of the stand. “Hurrah,” cried Mr. Kane. Our boys were 
sad but not discouraged. Phelan ran among them, slapping 
their backs and begging them to keep heart. Bob stood by 
near Billie Burke, with a rather peculiar expression upon 
his face. “That’s nothing, Billie, old man. First blood, 
that’s all. We’ll trim them before the game is over. Pull 


108 


ROBERT KANE’S 


together.” Then the goal was kicked and the score stood 
St. Patrick’s o ; St. Thomas’ 6. 

The teams changed goal. It was now Bob’s turn to kick 
off and when he had sent it flying towards the sky, his side 
went dashing down the field and the game was begun again. 
The St. Thomas boys began a savage systematic attack upon 
the line. Plunge after plunge they made against it, and 
they made gain after gain through it, perhaps not many feet 
at a time, but distance sufficient to cover the five yards in 
the three downs allowed them by the rules of the game. 
Slowly and gradually they advanced down the field. They 
crossed the center line and pressed forward for another 
goal. Suddenly Bob sang out with all the voice he had 
within him : 

“Hold them fellows ; hold the nuts and forever St. 
Patrick will love you. You can do it, fellows, and now is 
the time. Hold them; hold them.” 

Bang came Burns into the arms of Murphy, who downed 
him on the spot. 

“Fine,” yelled Bob ; “fine, Murphy, you Irish bum ; fine ; 
do it again; do it again.” 

Crash came Kenney against the shoulder of Grace, who 
had avoided his man, and down went Kenney to the ground 
without gaining an inch. 

“Fine, Gracey, old boy,” cried Bob. “Now once again, 
kiddoes, and we have them.” 

But St. Thomas’ did not mean that they should have 
them. Quickly they formed for a kick and, as the ball came 
flying back into the hands of Burns, he let it fall to the 
ground and met it with his toe. He had tried a drop-kick 
for a field goal. But Murphy was again in evidence. He 
had thrown his man violently to one side and came dashing 
down upon Burns in time to catch the ball full in the face. 
He did not try to pick it up as he went charging after it, 


SCHOOLDAYS 


109 


but, hurling his big form through the air, he fell upon it and 
he yelled, “down, down.” 

Donohue then came running up, shaking his right hand, 
from which the blood was dropping. 

“What’s the matter?” hurriedly demanded Phelan, as he 
noticed the boy’s condition. “Get out of here. Eschwei, 
Eschwei, hurry along here and get in the game. Trot along, 
Donney, and get fixed up.” 

Eschwei jumped into the game a fresh man. 

“Nine, sixteen, thirty-two,” he shouted, and passed the 
ball to Billie Burke, who made a few yards around the end. 

“Sixteen, twenty-seven, ninety-two,” again he shouted, 
and Bob tore a hole through the line behind the bouncing 
Murphy. 

“Thirty^six, eleven, forty-seven,” cried Eschwei, and 
Billie sailed around the end again for another gain. 

“First down : five yards to go,” exclaimed Father Duffy. 

“Forty-nine, thirty-six, seventy-two,” yelled Eschwei, 
and Bob received the ball. Swiftly he made for the line 
and leaped several feet in the air as he reached it, and his 
toe hit the head of Dooley. Over and over he rolled when 
he tumbled, but he arose to his feet again without a pause in 
his movements. On, on he ran with the ball tucked safely 
away under his arm. The field was clear before him but 
for Burns. “Kane,” came the cry from the south end of 
the grand stand, and his father heard it and he rose to his 
feet with the others about him. 

“Is that my son? Sure it is; go it, you imp; go it! 
Look at that brat ! He threw him to the ground ; what do 
you think of that? Mary, Mary, did you see him go? The 
best yet ; yell, old girl, yell ; that was our Bob who made 
that run ; I wish I knew the lad that threw him.” 

“Seventy-six, eighty-four, twelve,” shouted Eschwei, 
and Grace tore a hole through Dooley’s opponent. 


110 


ROBERT KANE’S 


“Seventy-four, seventy-seven, seventy-seven,” cried 
Eschwei, and Billie and Bob cleared the way for Frank to 
make another gain around the end. 

“Time is up,” yelled Father Duffy, and the first half was 
over. The boys all walked over to the side lines and, after 
wrapping themselves up in their sweaters and blankets, they 
lay down upon the ground to rest. 

“Mary, Mary, this is some game,” said Peter Kane to 
his sister at his side, but she could hardly hear him through 
the din and roar that was going on around them. “Do you 
mind, if I run down to see Bob ?” 

“Run along, Peter. I am quite safe here, and will be all 
right until you return.” 

As Mr. Kane walked along the line, he had some 
difficulty in finding his son, who lay there all bundled up; 
but at last Bob saw him, as he was straining his eyes, and 
he hailed him. 

“Hello, dad, how do you like the game?” 

“Great, boy, great; I never saw the like. That was a 
nice run you made. It was a devilish trick to throw you ; 
you were going so well. None of the others could ever 
have caught you.” 

“That’s the game, dad; he had to do it. I was not 
clever enough to get him out of the way.” 

“Well, keep it up and you’ll win. They can’t catch you 
now. They can’t even score on you.” 

“They have scored, dad; and may again, if we don’t 
keep awake. They have a team that is as good as ours.” 

“Have they scored? I thought a boy told me it was six 
to nothing.” 

“It is six to nothing, but in their favor, dad.” 

“Oh, my Lord! when did they get it? I didn’t see them 
get a point. They didn’t make a run like yours.” 


SCHOOLDAYS 


111 


“They have six points all right, dad, and we have 
nothing.” 

“My goodness, I’m topsy-turvy. I must hurry back and 
tell Mary. She thinks you’re winning, too. But, boy, don’t 
you lose heart ; go out there now and start to fight ; show 
them that we St. Patrick fellows can’t be beat and that a 
lead of a few points only encourages us to get down to 
work. We are made of the proper stuff, we are, and we’re 
going to win. Now go to it.” 

Soon the boys had returned to the field, and had lined 
up for the second half of the game. Bob kicked off, and 
he also, it was, who threw his opponent who carried it, 
after he had made a most beautiful run towards St. 
Patrick’s goal. Again the St. Thomas boy began to 
advance steadily down the gridiron and our side gave way 
under the strain, play after play. Bob asked Phelan to 
have little Eschwei play the fullback’s position while the 
other side had the ball, and the order had been given 
immediately. Bob was now in the thick of every play, 
shouting encouragement to the men. He was here and 
there, and all about the line, pushing and shoving, pulling 
and hurling. The boys saw him, heard him, and took 
heart. The line became a stone wall and, finally, St. 
Thomas had to form for a punt down the field. Bob knew 
what to do. Back he ran to Eschwei’s side just in time to 
see the balk soar high in the air. 

“Take it, Buddy, take it and freeze onto it, too,” he said, 
and stepped in front of him to block any one who might 
try to hinder him. Eschwei caught the ball and did freeze 
onto it. 

“Now,” said Bob, “come on : follow me.” 

Eschwei grabbed Bob by the back of his belt and away 
they started towards the onrushing opponents. Over Bob 
tumbled McCormack, the first man to him, and still Eschwei 


112 


ROBERT KANE’S 


clung to him. Pulman, the next man and a big fellow, 
figured to step to one side and to let Bob go by him and 
they try to tackle Eschwei from the side or rear. Down 
went Bob’s head and into the stomach of the big center, 
and both went sliding to the ground. Eschwei continued 
on into the arms of Auryansen, who neatly stopped his 
great run. 

Up they all scrambled and ran back quickly to their 
positions. 

“Nineteen seventy-one, eighty-eight,” cried Buddy, and 
the ball came flying into Bob’s ready arms. Into the middle 
of Murphy’s back crashed his head, but it did not stop 
there. Back, back, the freckled-neck monster pushed his 
opponent and Bob plunged through the hole they had made 
for him. Down the field he again started with only Burns 
between him and the coveted goal. Up into the air 
bounded our hero, when the two men met and the quick 
hands of Burns grabbed him by the ankles, and they both 
went rolling over and over. 

“Up, up,” yelled Mr. Kane, through the din from the 
south side of the stand. “Up, you beggar, he cannot stop 
you twice.” Bob did get up, with the ball still safely under 
his arm, but he reeled as if he would fall again. Burns 
still lay where he had fallen. 

“Go it, go it, you scamp, you son of mine, go it,” again 
shouted the excited man through the noise about him. 

Bob did go it, but not with the same vim and dash with 
which he had approached the lad that had failed to rise 
to his feet. In his left arm, he held the ball. His right 
arm was outstretched as if he were trying to feel his way 
through space, while on he limped and staggered. Back 
of him came hurrying the boys that were so anxious to see 
him on the ground. Closer, closer, they came, and foot 
upon foot they gained upon him. 


SCHOOLDAYS. 


113 


“Hurry, hurry, Bob, for heaven’s sake, hurry,” cried 
Mr. Kane. 

Could he make it; could he make it? Hardly, for he 
was seen to totter and to lean heavily forward, but on, on 
he struggled to retain his feet under him. He was seen, 
then to leap and to begin to settle to the ground. But, he 
did not reach it. The strong arms of his friend Billie 
Burke were soon about him, and Bill by tugs and jerks and 
pulls, carried Bob the remaining few feet over the goal 
line. Bob lay, as if he had fainted, where Burke had 
dropped him, when Phelan came running up to him. 

“Did I make it, old man; did Billie get me over?” 

“Yes, you got a touchdown. What’s the matter?” 

“My ankle is gone. I guess I’m done for this game. 
Gee, I’m sorry, but we’ll win now. Quick, Phelan, put 
Hendricks in my place. Keep them moving while the spell 
is on them. I’m all right. I’ll sit with dad and see the 
game out.” 

Father Duffy came running up to them and bent over 
the boy. 

“A bad sprain, Bob. I’ll have you carried over to the 
infirmary at once.” 

“Oh, please, oh, please, Father, don’t do it. Let me sit 
beside dad and Aunt Mary; I want to see the rest of the 
game.” 

“No, Bob, you must go to the infirmary.” 

“Please, please, Father, I can’t bear to miss it.” 

“But that’s a bad ankle, son, it has swollen already.” 

“It’s nothing, Father; please, let me see the game. A 
little longer won’t do it any more harm.” 

By this time Mr. Kane had reached his side; hat off 
and all excited. 

“That’s the kind of a boy to have, Father. Fine work, 
Bob; I couldn’t have done better myself. Fine work, I 


114 


ROBERT KANE’S 


call it. Father, don’t you? His leg is all right; just a turn 
of the ankle; he’s done that many .a time. Get in the 
game, Bob, and do that again.” 

“No, dad, they want solid men in there. I’m all right 
but I’ll be crippled for a day or so. I’ll go sit with you and 
Aunty.” 

“All right, come on ; get up there, and come on. Hurry 
so that we won’t miss any of the play. Great game.” 

Bob rose to his feet and placed his arm about his father 
and the two started for the grand stand, where the boys of 
both schools cheered and cheered him. Mr. Kane waved 
to all of them and laughed so loudly that even Bob had to 
join him in it, though he was in dreadful pain. 

Grace kicked the goal and the score stood six to six. 
The St. Patrick boys had now hit their stride and with a 
new-born confidence, that they now felt, they tore savagely 
into the St. Thomas team. While Bob sat between his 
father and aunt, he became so excited that he forgot his 
injured ankle, and he pulled and pulled at the tail of his 
father’s coat, as Mr. Kane kept bobbing up and down in 
his joy and happiness, no matter which side it was that 
made the clever play. The ball was now on St. Thomas’’ 
twenty-yard line, with only two more minutes to play. 
Could they get it over for another touchdown in that short 
time? No one would have said so, though they had the 
ball in their possession. 

“Do something, Billie,” cried Bob to Burke. 

“And be quick about it,” shouted his father. 

Billie did do something. 

“Nine, eleven, sixty-six,” yelled Eschwei in his ^last 
efforts, his death struggle, and back came the ball into 
Billie’s hands. Grace and Hendricks ran before him. Into 
Kenney’s stomach pounded Grace, and he toddled him out 
of the way; and down went McCormack with Hendricks 


SCHOOLDAYS 


115 


on top of him. Around the end circled Billie, with the field 
cleared of his opponents. Out towards the corner of the 
field he rushed and, as DuMont’s husky form struck him 
with the shoulder from behind, though he fell to the 
ground, he rolled and rolled and then, with the ball at arm’s 
length, he placed it safely over the line for another and the 
last touchdown. We had won the game. 

Up jumped Mr. Kane in the midst of the riot that one 
would think had started among the spectators in the grand 
stand. “We did it,” he shouted, and down came his big 
hand on the top of Aunty’s bonnet. “We win, we win, 
Bob. Isn’t that our side?” 

“Yes, dad, we win,” cried Bob, who had risen to his feet 
and was jumping around in spite of his sprained ankle. 
“We win, and Billie did it. I knew he could play football. 
Look at the clown Murphy, dad ; he is turning hand 
springs.” 

“Have you gone crazy entirely?” gasped dear Aunt 
Mary, as, in her amazement at the antics of her usually 
sedate brother, she began to straighten out the bonnet which 
he had driven pretty well down over her eyes and ears. 

“Crazy, woman, can’t you understand; we won the 
game.” 

“If you won a thousand games, I don’t see as it’s any 
excuse for you to be making a pest and a fool of yourself.” 

“A fool, sister, we win. Didn’t you ever win a thing?” - 

“It’s little that you had to do with the winning. For 
heaven’s sake, sit down. 

“Bob, never bring a woman to a baseball or a football 
game ; they have no sense of sport.” 

“Dad, I win my bet, too, don’t I?” 

“Sure, son, I intended to stay, anyhow.” 

“It isn’t that that I would ask, dad.” 

“No; well what then, boy? I grant your wish.” 


# 

116 ROBERT KANE’S 

“Give Jake the job, will you?” 

“Sure, if I have to resign and offer him my own job to 
do it.” 

And Bob had fainted dead away. He lay lifeless with 
his head in his Aunt Mary’s lap. 


SCHOOLDAYS 


117 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE INFIRMARY. 

HE next morning, after the nine o’clock mass, while 
Bob lay comfQrtably in his bed- in the infirmary, 
Father Duffy came to visit him, accompanied by 
Aunt Mary. The boy gladly laid aside the. book 
which he had been reading,, and which happened to be one 
of his text books that he had had brought to him from his 
desk in the study hall. The kind brother had propped him 
well up in his pillows and he felt quite easy, though his 
ankle pained him dreadfully. 

“Good morning, Bob,” exclaimed the priest, and he 
gazed pleasantly down upon him. “My, but you look as 
if you were the lazy fellow. Why are you keeping to the 
bed so late this morning?” 

“I wish I could get up and move around a bit, Father. 
This is no fun for a healthy chap like me. How are you, 
Aunty? I am glad that you came to see me, for I have 
been expecting you.” 

“Good morning, Robert, dear,” replied his aunt, with an 
anxious expression upon her sweet face. “How did you 
rest last night?” 

“Fine, Aunty. They keep us fellows pretty well tired 
out around here and, when any of us can’t sleep well, we 
have to have something more than a bad ankle to bother us.” 

“I am sorry that that happened, Bob,” said the priest. 



118 


ROBERT KANE’S 


“You did not deserve such an accident to yourself after 
the fine work you did for us. It was a real game, too ; full 
of spectacular plays and very exciting. I thought they had 
us beaten at the end of the first half, but you turned the 
trick on them.” 

“Not I alone, Father. Every man did his part. I only 
did what I could and I was expected to do that.” 

“Maybe so, son,” replied the priest. “But, in my opinion, 
we would have lost had you not been there to put the fire 
into our boys. I brought your aunty here to see you ; your 
father is bidding Father Doyle and the other fathers good- 
bye; he will soon be along. I must return to my duties. 
Good-bye, Bob; I will see you again.” 

Then Bob turned to his dear aunt, who had taken a 
chair close to the side of his Ted. He reached out and 
gently clasped one of her hands and, as he pressed it tightly 
between both of his, he, smilingly and affectionately, looked 
up into the eyes he loved so well. 

“Oh, this is so good of you, Aunty, to come to see me so 
that I can have you all alone to myself for just a moment. 
I have thought of you so often and have missed you so 
much. I say the little black beads every night, after I 
crawl into my bed, and I always fall to sleep praying for 
my dear Aunty. Tell me, do you ever miss your rough- 
neck?” 

’“Miss you, Robert; how can you ask me? I think of 
you constantly; never are you out of your Aunt Mary’s 
mind. When I dream, I dream of you.” 

“What do you dream of me, dear Aunty? What does 
your rough-neck say to you in your sleep?” 

“Always that he loves me and is thinking of me. I 
always see him as a priest.” 

“A priest,” exclaimed Bob, in astonishment; “but 
dreams always happen in their opposites.” 


SCHOOLDAYS 


119 


“If we were to sin and believe in them, yes.” 

“Would you like to see me a priest, Aunty?” 

“With all my heart, Robert, dear, and so would your 
father ; I heard him say so.” 

“Dad said that he, too, would like to see me a priest? 
Oh, well, I’ll have to think it over, for I will not care to 
disappoint either of you. But, you know, Aunty, that 
rough-necks don’t make good priests.” 

“Robert, what is a rough-neck?” 

“A rough-neck, Aunty, dear, is a fellow who is careless 
and negligent; who fights with all his boy playmates; who 
runs to fires instead of delivering important messages that 
have been intrusted to him for delivery ; who gets sent 
away to school because his father and aunty can do nothing 
to break him of his cussed ways. That, my dear Aunty, is 
a rough-neck.” 

“Robert, you are not a rough-neck.” 

“No, Aunt Mary, I am not now, though I sure was only 
a few short months ago.” 

“Well, you are not one now, so, please, don’t call your- 
self one again. It doesn’t sound nice or right.” 

“You don’t like to hear me say that?” 

“No.” 

“Then I shall never call myself one again. How is dad 
after the game? He certainly did enjoy every minute 
of it.” 

“Well, if he didn’t, then no one did. I thought that he 
had lost his mind entirely. He could hardly speak when 
he reached the hotel, and he soon went to bed. But here 
he is himself ; let him tell you.” 

Bob noticed the rather forlorn expression upon his 
father’s face, as he came walking towards him, chewing on 
two or three throat lozenges. When the poor man spoke, 
his voice was hardly more than a loud whisper. 


120 


ROBERT KANE’S 


“How do you feel, Bob?” said he, as he and Father 
Doyle found seats. 

“Quite comfortable, dad. My ankle pains me quite a 
bit but I expect it will continue to do so until to-morrow. 
The doctor said that I would be in bed a week or more and 
that it would be another week before I would be able to 
get around as I used to.” 

“These football games are great fun while we are 
watching them but I think that the, Kane family had better 
keep away from them. I am almost as laid up as you 
are.” 

“He did his share towards returning us victors, didn’t 
he, Bob?” asked Father Doyle. 

“Ask Aunt Mary ; she knows,” laughed Bob. 

“Why, he acted like a crazy man,” replied the dear lady. 
“He’ll buy me a new hat, too, when he gets me home, and 
I shall never go to any game again, when he goes with me.” 

They all laughed at the seriousness with which she said 
this. 

“While you won, you lost,” said Father Doyle to Mr. 
Kane. 

“Yes, I lost in more ways than one,” responded Bob’s 
father. “By the bye, Bob, I saw your friend Jake last night. 
He stayed over at the hotel in Melville. He impressed me 
as being a likely chap.” 

“He is, dad; did you offer him a position with you?” 

“Yes, I offered to put him on as receiving clerk, at 
fifteen dollars a week. Travers is leaving me and I want 
to promote Metzger; so your friend will fit into Metzger’s 
old job very nicely.” 

“That’s great, dad, if Jake will accept it.” 

“He did accept it and will report to me one week from 
to-morrow. He wanted to give his company a few days’ 
time to find someone who can take his place with them.” 


SCHOOLDAYS 


121 


“Did you tell him that I had spoken to you about it, dad ? 
I hope not.” 

“I told him everything and I thanked him for sticking 
to you during the wreck. He knows that you are laid up, 
too, and he will be up to see you this evening. He asked 
me to get permission from Father Doyle for him to do so, 
and Father Doyle has kindly granted it to him.” 

“I will be glad to see him.” 

The conversation then turned onto other topics, but, 
to-day, Father Doyle became the leader in it instead of Mr. 
Kane, who soon seemed to show a preference to remain 
silent. They laughed at his uneasiness and he smiled, 
when he could, with them. The time for their departure 
arrived before they knew it and farewells had to be begun. 
When Aunt Mary leaned over Bob, he pulled her gently 
down to him and whispered as he kissed her: “Christmas 
is only a little more than a month away, Aunty, dear, and 
then we’ll have our fun, won’t we?” 

“Yes, dear boy,” was all that she answered him. 

“Well, good-bye, Bob; I am sorry that we must leave 
you so suddenly,” said Mr. Kane. “I must tell you that I 
am well pleased with the reports and recommendations that 
all of the priests give me concerning your behavior here. 
I am astonished and delighted, as I behold the changes that 
I can see in you. I believe that you will continue to improve 
as steadily in the future and, I assure you, that I will be 
happy to know that you do. You are doing better than I 
had calculated you would in every manner. I will be 
expecting you at Christmas time. If you are in need of 
anything, send me word. Good-bye, son.” 

“Dad, before you go, I would like to ask you, may I 
bring a young chap home with me to spend the holidays?” 

“Sure, lad, bring a dozen if you wish.” 

“Thank you, dad,” said Bob, in his joy. “Good-bye.” 


122 


ROBERT KANE’S 


“Good-bye, Bob,” and he was gone after Mary, who 
had left with Father Doyle. 

Bob again took up the book which he had laid aside when 
his aunt had entered the room. He studied all that morning 
until the good brother had carried him in and set before 
him a tray of food fit for a giant gladiator about to step 
into the arena. Bob did justice to it, however, and demon- 
strated that the brother knew well what he was doing, when 
he had prepared it for him. The dishes had no more than 
been taken away when the door opened and in walked Sam 
Crawford, with his heavy boots and his long strides. Sam 
walked directly to Bob’s side and sat himself down in the 
chair, occupied, only a few hours before, by Aunt Mary. 

“How are you, Sam?” smiled Bob. 

“Pretty good,” replied Sam; “and you?” 

“I’m feeling as comfortable as can be expected,” con- 
tinued Bob. “I am glad to see you.” 

“Bill knows that you were hurt yesterday, and he sent 
me over to see how you are getting along and what the hurt 
amounts to.” 

“Nothing but a little sprain to the ankle. I will be 
around in a few days just as lively as ever.” 

“Say, your name ain’t Ly; it’s Bob; Bob Kane.” 

“You’re right,” laughed Bob. “My name is Bob Kane.” 

“Then, why did you lie to me? You and that other 
scoundrel.” 

“Oh, don’t say that, Sam; can’t you take a joke?” 

“Yes, I can; but a lie is not a joke.” 

“I’m sorry that we did so, Sam, but I did not think you 
were so sensitive. I thought you would understand.” 

“Well, it’s done and I ain’t mad. I knew it was a darn 
lie and so did Mrs. -Sanderson.” 

“Goodness, you didn’t tell her about it, did you?” 


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123 


“Yes, I did, and she told me that you had lied as soon 
as I had finished.” 

“But how did she know, Sam?” 

“Because you were not clever at it. As soon as I told 
her that you were locked up for ninety days, she said, don’t 
you believe it; there isn’t a judge on any bench that that 
lad couldn’t lie his freedom from.” 

“I see,” laughed Bob “but you are going to forgive me, 
and Jack, too, for what we did, aren’t you?” 

“Oh, sure,” replied Sam, and out went his big, rough 
hand, which Bob seized and shook heartily. 

“Well, I’ll tell them that you are not hurt much and will 
be out soon.” 

“Yes, do,” responded Bob, “and thank them for their 
kindness.” 

“They said that, if they can do anything, they are 
willing, but that they didn’t suppose that there would be.” 

“Nothing at all, Sam, thank them. I have everything.” 

“Good-bye, Bob.” 

“Good-bye, Sam.” 

After Sam had left him, many of Bob’s schoolmates 
dropped in to see him for a minute or two. Grace came ; 
so did Burke, and Mallory, and Murphy, and Phelan, and 
many others of his friends, and, finally, little Jimmie Ryan. 

“Hello, Jimmie,” cried Bob, in a beam of joy; “sit 
down.” 

“I Jiope you feel better, Bob,” he said. “I was awfully 
sorry to see you get hurt. You did so well yesterday, and 
played such a great game. I wish that I could do all that.” 

“Well, Jimmie, you can do so many things that I cannot, 
though I wish I could. The scales are about balanced, 
anyhow.” 

“Not many things, I fear.” 


124 


ROBERT KANE’S 


“Yes, quite a few, Jim. I can’t play the organ nor sing 
like you.” 

“Well, I am really sorry that you are hurt and hope that 
you will soon be out again. The study hall is lonesome 
without you at my side.” 

“Jim, you haven’t got a father or a mother, have you?” 

“No, I haven’t. They both died about five years ago 
and I was sent to live with an old uncle up in the moun- 
tains on a farm. He is very, very good to me, but it is 
very quiet and lonesome up there.” 

“Are you going home for the holidays, Jim?” 

“No, I can’t afford it and uncle can’t afford to let me, 
either. You know I am a charity student. The fathers 
don’t take any money for letting me board and study here. 
They have a mission house near our place up in the moun- 
tains, and they asked me to come even though I can’t pay 
my way.” 

“Do you think your uncle would object to your coming 
home with me for Christmas vacation?” 

“If I could afford to go with you, I could go to him, 
Bob.” 

“This won’t cost a penny. You see, I have two tickets 
sent to me. One from my father and another from my 
Aunt Mary. They are afraid that one or the other might 
get lost on the way here and that I couldn’t get to them. 
Now, I know that neither will get lost and I hate to see 
one go to waste. My aunt just loves kids, and she will be 
disappointed, if I don’t bring at least one of you home with 
me. All the other fellows are going to their homes, so 
whom have I got left but you ? Don’t disappoint a poor old 
lady. Help me out, won’t you? Say you’ll come along.” 

“Why, if that’s the case ; sure, I’ll be glad to go.” 

“Good ; now, I’ll expect you. That’s settled. I’ll speak 
to you again about it as Christmas approaches.” 


SCHOOLDAYS 


125 


Jimmie lingered longer with his crippled friend but, when 
they both looked through the window and saw the form of 
Jake, as Brother Albert pointed out the door of the 
infirmary to him, Jimmie arose to depart. 

“I thank you for the invitation that you have tendered 
me, Bob, and I am sure that I will enjoy the trip. He then 
left the infirmary just as Jake came rushing in in his noisy 
manner. 

“Well, what’s the matter here; what kind of a game is 
this you’re playing, that puts you in the hospital? You 
must like to run the risk of your life just to satisfy yourself 
that you can break another man’s bones. What’s the trouble 
with you?” 

“I’m glad to see you, Jake. Sit down. I twisted my 
ankle, as I pulled it from the grasp of Burns in yesterday’s 
game and I will be laid up with it for a few days. It 
amounts to nothing.” 

“Well, I can’t stay long. The fat man, out in front 
there, with the black dress on, told me not to stay long 
because you have had several visitors to-day and that you 
must be pretty well tired out. I don’t know whether he 
meant five minutes or an hour but, since I wish to come 
again, I had better hustle this trip along.” 

“That was Father Doyle, I guess,” laughed Bob. 

“I thought that they wouldn’t let a Jew fellow in to see 
you, but they don’t seem to mind any.” 

“Why should they mind, Jake?” • 

“I knew they shouldn’t, and now I know they don’t. I 
thought that they kept you all under a close eye and that 
you couldn’t move without their knowing it.” 

“We can’t do much, Jake, that they won’t know. They 
place us on our honor, which makes us more liable to do all 
that is expected of us. We have rules and regulations 


126 


ROBERT KANE’S 


which we must follow but they are all reasonable and few 
of us ever break them.” 

“They must treat you well, too, for you are looking 
fine, even though you are in bed. You’re all tanned up and 
heavier than you were when I last saw you.” 

“They take as much care of our bodies and good health 
as they do of our brains. They also work hard for our 
souls.” 

“Well, I’m going to work for your old gent, did he tell 
you?” 

“If you mean my father, Jake, he did.” 

“Well, I want to thank you, Bob. It was mighty decent 
of you to remember me. I mean it, Bob ; why shouldn’t 
I? It’s just the chance that I have been waiting for. I’ll 
begin next Monday to learn a regular business ; some day 
I’ll own a store of my own.” 

“I sincerely hope you do, Jake. I hope you do.” 

“There,” said Jake, pointing out of the window, “is the 
priest that told me not to stay long and he looked over here, 
too. I guess I’d better duck, if I want to see you again.” 

“Do come again,” said Bob, “whenever you can.” 

“I will. But you hurry and get out of bed. So-long, 
old top.” 

“Good-bye, Jake, old boy.” 

For the following two or three days, Bob continued to 
study, to read, and to write letters to his friends and rela- 
tives, while he lay there propped up among his pillows. 
His healthy condition and his strong constitution proved 
to be a great aid to him in his ailment, and his ankle healed 
much more swiftly than any one had expected. On the 
next Thursday morning, the doctor permitted him to leave 
the infirmary and to attend his classes. Upon his first 
entrance into the study hall, he found his desk all decorated 
up as if his schoolmates had intended to do him the honor 


SCHOOLDAYS 


127 


that was, in olden days, rendered at the return of a con- 
quering hero. Old withered flowers had been collected 
from the waste can that stood in the rear of the chapel, 
and had been set in old tin cans that had been thrown from 
the kitchen, and placed upon the top of his desk. Old 
soiled American flags had been draped about his chair. 
Someone had even thought to carefully place a large piece 
of green cloth with the golden harp finely stamped upon it. 
Bob did not say a word, as he gazed upon the artistic 
workmanship of his friends, who silently watched him 
from their places. Slowly he dismantled everything, and, 
when he limped down the aisle to throw the things in the 
waste basket, the boys broke forth in a roar of laughter. 
As he returned to his seat, with a broad grin upon his 
features, some one yelled “Gimp,” and, from that day, the 
name stuck to him. Bob took it all good-naturedly and, 
even to this day, he will answer pleasantly to the appellation 
that so suddenly came to him and which his old St. Patrick’s 
schoolmates still often call him. But the actual gimp soon 
left him and he began to run and jump around as well as 
ever he did. 

Now that football was over, and that it was too late in 
the season to continue play upon the baseball diamond, 
Bob had to find other means to dispose of the superfluous 
boyish energy that had always been stored up in him. So 
he began to spend a great deal of his time in the gym- 
nasium, throwing a basketball around and trying to place 
it safely in one or the other of the baskets. St. Patrick’s 
had, from time immemorial, a basketball team of which 
the students and the priests felt very proud. One day, 
Father Duffy walked in among the boys who were fooling 
with the ball and announced to them that he would then 
begin to form the team for that year and requested that all 
the aspirants get down to work. Bob immediately expressed 


128 


ROBERT KANE’S 


his desire to make one of the positions. Two sides had 
been chosen and Bob jumped to his place. Up went the 
ball towards the ceiling and all the boys rushed to grab it. 
In a twinkle, Mike Casey hurled it into the arms of our hero, 
wh6, in an instant, had it safely tucked under his left arm 
and began a mad dash down the floor. Down went his 
head and into the stomach of Art Higgins, who stood in 
his way, and they both fell heavily to the boards. Poor 
Art’s head struck against an iron post, that supported the 
balcony at that end of the room, with such force, that the 
blood began to flow and he was hurried to the room and 
the bed that Bob had so lately left behind him. After he 
had been carried away, the boys began to play again. Bob 
continued to run all about the hall, as before. Finally the 
ball came flying towards him again, but his opponent 
jumped quickly in front of him and caught it, just as Bob 
would have received it in his outstretched arms. Like a 
flash, Bob’s arms fell to his side, and, just as if he were on 
the gridiron, he bent forward and tackled Degnan about the 
knees. Down they tumbled with great force, and the blow 
with which Degnan’s head hit the floor could be heard all 
about the building. Father Duffy came running over with 
a frown upon his forehead. 

“Get out of here, you ruffian. If you continue to play 
we won’t have a man left in the college.” 

Thus it was that Bob quit playing basketball. 

Now, as has been stated, Bob was clever with his fists. 
One day, he and Farley were battering away at one another 
and Father Shean stood watching them. Father Shean was 
not much bigger than Bob but he was a very strong man ; 
and fairly lively with the gloves on; and he loved to box. 
When Farley had declared that he had had enough for 
that afternoon, the priest asked Bob, if he cared to box 
with him for a while. Bob assented and the two were soon 


SCHOOLDAYS 


129 


facing one another. Farley stood by with his watch in his 
hand. 

“Now, this round/’ said Father Shean, “I am going to 
let you hit me as you will. Go to it, Bob.” 

Bob did go to it and hit the poor priest about the face, 
and on the body, just as he chose, until the voice of Farley 
shouted “time.” 

“This round I am going to protect myself,” said Father 
Shean, “but I will not strike you. Do your best to land 
on me.” 

Again they went at it. Bob began to feint and to strike 
and the good man found it absolutely impossible to block 
half of the blows that were sent from the strong shoulder 
of our hero. Bob’s attack became vicious in his excitement, 
as he, time and time again, broke through the guard of the 
priest. 

“Flit me, Father, hit me ; strike back at me.” 

“All right,” said the priest, and he did hit him, and, in 
the fraction of a second, Bob’s head hit the floor, and blood 
came rushing from his mouth and nose, while he lay there 
in a lifeless mass. 

“Good Lord !” exclaimed the priest, as he bent over him, 
“I did not mean to strike him such a powerful blow. I’ll 
never box again. I do not know my strength.” 

He applied his handkerchief to Bob’s face and rubbed 
his wrists, but the boy showed no signs of recovery. He 
and Farley raised the lifeless body from the floor and 
carried it into the shower. The priest then held our hero’s 
form erect, and he himself stood beside it, and permitted 
Farley to turn the water upon them, though they were 
both fully dressed, and they were soon drenched to the 
skin. Bob still remained unconscious. Father Shean bade 
Farley to shut off the shower and they carried him to a 
sink that was near them. They shoved the boy’s head deep 


130 


ROBERT KANE’S 


into it and allowed the stream from the faucet to strike in 
the middle of his neck. Soon Bob • wiggled and then 
struggled to his feet. A broad smile then spread over his 
face and smarted his swollen lips, but he exclaimed : 

“Come on, Father, let’s finish it.” 

“I will not,” laughed the priest, happy at seeing Bob 
himself once more. “I am going to change my clothes, and 
I think you should do the same.” 



SCHOOLDAYS 


131 


CHAPTER IX. 

A TRIP UP THE LAKE. 

ND now the Thanksgiving vacation had arrived. 
Only those boys, whose homes were in the 
immediate proximity of the college, seized upon 
this opportunity to go to their families, because 
the time allowed them was too short and the Christmas 
holidays were too close at hand. Classes dismissed on the 
Wednesday noon just previous to the day that had been 
designated, throughout this great land of ours, as the one 
on which we should all return to God the thanks that were 
due Him for His many blessings, to begin again on the 
following Monday morning. Though it was of only short 
duration, the boys appreciated the rest from their books and 
recitations, and gave themselves up to recreation, as only 
healthy boys can. 

At the far end of the lake, which we have so often 
referred to, as lying back of the athletic field and baseball 
diamond, the fathers had had constructed several log cabins 
of rather extraordinary dimensions. These cabins had 
been built originally, so that all the fathers and brothers 
that cared to, might go there, during the . warm summer 
months, while the students were at home, and avail them- 
selves of the cooler and more comfortable quarters than 
they could find, if they remained in the large though close 
rooms of the college. Upon this occasion, each year, Father 
Doyle permitted the boys, or those of them that wished to, 


A 


132 


ROBERT KANE’S 


to go there and to spend the time that they had been 
excused from their studies. They could make space 
enough, by crowding closely together, to conveniently 
house all that desired to partake of the sport that they 
always had there. 

Wednesday morning, while the boys were busy in the 
classrooms, a big heavy wagon had been loaded down with 
provisions and other necessities for the trip, and a team of 
work horses had hauled it out the wood road to its destina- 
tion. In the afternoon, after dinner and a short recess, the 
boys had assembled on the lawn and the Fathers Duffy, 
Sullivan, Shean and Riordan, and the Brothers Albert, 
Charles, Patrick and Aloysius had joined them. They then, 
with their band at their head, playing a lively air, marched 
in much disorder over the same road. 

The day had not broken very pleasantly. The wind 
blew in a strong gale from the northwest and had become 
raw and piercing, and it seemed to carry a heavy mist with 
it, which settled over the surrounding country. But the 
boys did not mind it in their anticipation of the fun before 
them, for they had bundled themselves in their sweaters 
and raincoats of various descriptions. When they reached 
the camp, which they did in reasonable time, they cheer- 
fully began to unload the wagon that had arrived ahead 
of them and, which now stood by, while the horses con- 
tentedly grazed among the trees. With such numerous 
and willing hands to handle the boxes, and *so forth, it did 
not take long to place everything neatly and orderly away 
in the spot assigned for it by the ever alert Brother Patrick. 

Father Duffy, then, gathered them all around him and, 
from a list which he had marked on a paper and held in 
his hand, he assigned each and every man to some particu- 
lar duty, excepting only those who played in the band and 
would furnish music, and little Jimmie Ryan, who would 


SCHOOLDAYS 


133 


sing for them whenever he might be requested to do so. 
Some had to look for and bring in wood, while others had 
to chop it and prepare it for the fire. Some had to sweep 
the floors, and others to wash and clean them. Some had 
to wash the dishes and others had to dry them. Some had 
to wait on the tables, and others to carry the dirty dishes 
away while the waiters ate their meals. Some had to assist 
Brother Aloysius in the kitchen and should have become 
expert chefs under his tutorage, for he was an excellent 
instructor in that particular line of business. 

Then the priest separated them into three divisions. He 
assigned one division to each of the other three priests, 
and he, himself, took charge of the whole brigade. Then 
Father Sullivan came forward and called the names of 
those placed under his supervision. As each man answered 
to the call, he was told to step to the right. Father Riordan 
did likewise, but his command all stepped to the left. Then 
Father Shean had only to pronounce the names of those 
under his care. 

Then the three priests quietly led their charges to the 
three cabins on the extreme north of the camp and each 
chose one of them for their quarters. There were only two 
other buildings, one of which was used as a storehouse and 
the other was quickly turned into a kitchen. There was a 
large pavilion erected in the center of all the huts, and this 
was to be the mess, though it did not have any sides to 
protect them from the weather while they ate there. 

Of all the boys that I have already mentioned in this 
narrative, only Bob, Murphy, O’Brien, Farley and little 
Jimmie Ryan had been assigned to Father Shean’s division. 
However, this did not matter. Although, at times, from 
the manner in which I have written, the reader might have 
imagined that certain of the boys were rather chummy, 
this was not the fact. Of course, as in any other form of 


134 


ROBERT KANE’S 


life, a certain individual character had more forcibly 
attracted a certain other individual character, but, in St. 
Patrick’s there were no cliques. Father Doyle was too 
shrewd a man to permit of any. When it came to actual 
companionship, the boys, under his watchful eye and 
personal scrutiny, were a unit. Bob and O’Brien and 
Murphy, by this time, were well acquainted with every 
other student that attended the college, and were equally 
as well known by them, and it did not matter with which 
of them they happened to be, they were just as happy and 
just as familiar. 

The drinking water on the shore of the lake, in the 
vicinity chosen by the fathers to construct their camp, was 
very scarce. In fact, in the summer months, when they all 
lived there, there was none to be had at all. Consequently, 
they were obliged to go to a spring, which was located about 
a half a mile farther back up in the hills, to procure it. So 
that it would not be necessary to walk so far several times 
each day and carry back heavy pails to the camp, there was 
laid a pipe line between the pavilion and the spring. There 
was a gasoline engine, too, to force the water up over a 
knoll that stood quite high between the points of intake 
and outlet. It was Bob and Percy Lee who had been 
assigned to take care of the pump. Twice a day they were 
to go to the spring ; once in the morning to start the engine 
working, and again at night to stop it, after they had filled 
two large barrels so that there would be some on hand in 
case of need. 

In introducing Percy to you, about the best that I can 
say is that he was a perfect gentleman. No one had ever 
seen him with dirty hands, unclean nails, or mussed up 
hair; his clothes always appeared to be most immaculate; 
his shoes always reflected the objects that were near them. 
Even on this day, which, as I have said, was raw, and 


SCHOOLDAYS 


135 


misty, and somewhat muddy, Percy’s boots had collected 
no more dirt and dust than had his face or clothing, how- 
ever he did it. He seldom joined in the rougher play with 
the boys, though he often watched them at it, but, if the 
fact were known, he probably used to spend many of his 
recreation hours in a strenuous frolic with the knitting 
needle. His father had acquired a great deal of wealth in 
the great city where he was proprietor of one of the largest 
manufactories of his district. 

On the very first night in camp, after prayers had been 
said out under the open sky, Bob reported to Father Duffy 
that he was about to go to shut off the pump. After he had 
filled the two barrels, he picked up a lantern and shouted 
for Percy to follow him, and they started on their journey. 
Neither of the boys said much until they had climbed over 
the knoll and had begun to descend on the slope opposite 
the camp. Then Bob spoke. 

“Percy, are you afraid of snakes?” 

“Oh, my lands, yes. Are there any around here ?” 

“This place is full of them and the worst kind, too. 
There are probably more rattlers right here in this section 
than in any other part of the country.” 

“Goodness me,” exclaimed the frightened boy, and he 
stopped short where he stood. “I shall not go another step. 
I shall surely drop dead if I see one.” 

“You won’t see them,” continued Bob. “At night they 
are very cautious and keep well out of sight. They dash at 
you, and bite you, and are gone again, before you have a 
chance even to see them.” 

“Oh, Robert, I am going back. Why did Father Duffy 
assign me to such a position ? I am not fitted for it.” 

“All right, you go back,” answered Bob, “and I’ll continue 
on alone. I’ll shut off the pump without you.” 

“But how will I ever get back alone? You must come 


136 


ROBERT KANE’S 


with me. Please take me to the camp where I shall be safe 
from snakes at least. To-morrow I shall return to the 
college ; I never cared for camp life, anyhow.” 

“What, and have my friends say that I am a coward and 
afraid to die? Never! I am going on. If you don’t wish 
to go with me, stay here until I return for you.” 

“No, no, Robert, if you go on, I must go with you. I 
cannot stay alone. But I wish that you would first return 
with me.” 

“Come on, then. We must hurry and stop that pump. 
But, it might be a good idea, if you began to say your act of 
contrition.” 

Percy grabbed him by the arm and leaped rather than 
walked while they continued upon their way towards the 
pump. Bob tramped on as before, for his conscience did 
not seem to trouble him, the young rascal. He did not 
miss a mud puddle or a pool of any description that he could 
possibly see, when he approached it While he slashed his 
way through them, he stamped his feet and, although he 
himself got most of the mud and water that went flying 
around them, Percy, at his side, caught enough of it. 
Finally, he half stumbled and, in his exertions to save him- 
self from falling to the ground, the lantern went out. No 
one knows how or why, for Bob has never told them. 

“There, I told you,” he cried. “We just missed that 
one.” 

“Was it a snake?” wailed Percy, and he clung tighter to 
Bob’s arm. 

“No, that was a woodchuck; they are not as bad as a 
snake. You always can tell when a woodchuck is near by 
the scent. Didn’t you smell him? I was on the lookout 
for him.” 

“Robert, I didn’t smell a thing. I couldn’t. I’m too 
excited.” 


SCHOOLDAYS 


137 


“He blew the lantern out on me ; they’re foxy. He may 
lay for us as we come back. We’ll have to remember this 
spot.” 

When they had at last reached the pump, Bob struck a 
match and, after looking around the engine, he threw the 
little switch into its center position and the big fly-wheel 
began to slow down. Then he turned to the frightened boy 
who still clung to him for dear life. 

“Say, Percy, we got here all right, didn’t we?” 

“Yes, thanks to Almighty God, we did.” 

“Surely we must thank Him for everything we do; but 
that isn’t the point just now. What are you afraid of?” 

“Of snakes, Robert, and woodchucks.” 

“Well, now, snakes and woodchucks. If I hadn’t men- 
tioned either of them to you, you would have come along 
right through them, like a little major, wouldn’t you?” 

“But I would not have known. I would not have 
known.” 

“Now that you do know, is it going to help you any to 
act like a girl ? It is because you do know that you should 
brace up. You can’t blame a man for not fighting, if he 
doesn’t know what he is to fight for ; but, when a man re- 
fuses to pull himself together and fight for his life, he must 
be made of pretty poor stuff. Here you are, a great big 
chap and afraid of snakes. I’ll bet you little Jimmie Ryan 
isn’t; I’ll bet you even he would fight. Now here we are, 
Percy, and there is the camp a good half mile away. The 
space between us is alive with rattle snakes, but we have 
got to get home, haven’t we?” 

“Yes,” wailed poor Percy. 

“Well, then, let us make it. Sit here for a minute,” and 
Bob pushed him down across a board that rested near the 
pump. Then he stooped and filled a tin cup which had been 


138 


ROBERT KANE'S 


hung there and, handing it to him, told him to drink. When 
Percy had done so, Bob continued : 

“Now, you just shut your teeth tightly together and think 
it over for a while. When you say you’re ready, we’ll 
start.” ' 

Percy did as he was bid but he remained silent for several 
minutes before he rose quickly to his feet and exclaimed : 

“Come on, Robert, let us return, since we have got to 
make it.” 

“Good,” cried Bob, and off they started. Percy did not 
cling to his arm now, but, to tell the truth, he did not move 
far from his side nor allow Bob to stray away. They did 
not return over the same path which they had taken in 
coming to the pump; it seemed to Percy much longer and 
full of crooks and very sharp turns. Neither boy said a 
word. Once or twice Bob stopped, took off his cap, and 
scratched a certain spot on the back of his head. When 
he had repeated his antics several times, he finally came to 
a stop and said to the boy at his side : 

“Percy, I’ve lost my way; what shall we do?” 

“Don’t ask me,” he exclaimed, as if ready to burst forth 
in tears. “You got me into this ; now get me out of it, as 
quickly as you can.” 

“Let us crawl under the bushes and try to sleep. When 
daylight comes I can easily find my way.” 

“No, no, Robert, don’t do that, for heaven’s sake, don’t 
do it. Let us try to find the camp once more.” 

“But I am so frightened, Percy, that I can’t do a thing. 
We will not find the camp, I know we won’t; not to-night.” 

“Don’t get frightened,” wailed poor Percy, “If you do, 
we are lost.” 

“What about yourself, old boy? Don’t you think you 
might do something?” 

“All that I can do is to follow you.” 


SCHOOLDAYS 


139 


“And some day you are going to vote, aren’t you, Percy?” 

Just then, from the top of a tall tree, some few hundred 
feet from the spot where our friends were standing, an owl 
sent forth his drear howl and it came floating through the 
night air. 

“Hoo, hoo.” 

Bob heard it and quickly thought of something, for he 
grabbed Percy by the arm and he whispered to him : 

“There’s an old guy over there who wants to know who 
we are.. Pm so frightened that I can hardly talk. You tell 
him.” 

“Hoo, hoo,” again came floating through the darkness. 

“We are Robert Kane and Percy Lee of St. Patrick’s, 
sir,” shouted Percy, in response to the bird. 

“Hoo, hoo,” screeched Mr. Owl. 

“Robert Kane and Percy Lee,” yelled Percy a little 
louder. 

“Hoo, hoo,” again asked the night bird. 

“Give it to him strong, Percy, he may be a little deaf,” 
whispered Bob, without a smile on his features. 

“Robert Kane and Percy Lee,” shouted the boy, strain- 
ing every muscle in his throat in his endeavor to make the 
inquirer hear him. 

“Hoo, hoo,” said the owl, and he, too, seemed to give 
strength to his efforts. 

“Tell him in dago ; he may be a Wap,” advised the rascal, 
Bob. 

“But I don’t know Italian,” answered Percy. 

“Tell him to shut up, Percy,” said Murphy, as he stepped 
up to their side. “What has been keeping you fellows? 
Father Shean sent me out to find you.” 

“Well, you big clown, you’re always butting in,” laughed 
Bob. 


140 


ROBERT KANE’, 8f 


“And I am glad that he did,” said Percy, “for now we 
can find our way back.” 

“Oh, yes, we can find our way back,” exclaimed Bob, 
with a twinkle in his eye which Murphy felt though he could 
not see it. 

“What do you mean; find your way back?” asked 
Clarence. 

“Why, back to camp, of course. We have lost our way,” 
replied Percy. 

“Sure, you’re at the camp. It isn’t a hundred feet away,” 
said Murphy. 

“The fellows must be dead inside,” laughed Bob, “for 
they didn’t hear our Percy yelling.” 

“Father Duffy has ordered silence for the night,” said 
Clarence. 

“And I’ll bet that Percy gets his first demerit marks for 
breaking it,” added Bob. 

The three boys tip-toed their way to their cots and were 
soon peacefully at rest in dreamland with the rest of their 
comrades. The next day, Father Duffy excused Percy from 
further duties as pump tender and assigned Scully to take 
his place with Bob. All during that morning, while the 
boys roamed about the woods, Bob could constantly hear 
some one of them raise his voice and cry in the midst of the 
others’ laughter, “Hoo, hoo.” 

That afternoon, Brother Aloysius caught Bob hard at 
work at something in the kitchen. He had taken down two 
of the big, thick china cups, and was covering the bottoms 
of each with a heavy layer of soot by burning matches and 
allowing the flame to just touch them. 

“What tricks are you conniving at now, you scamp?” 
asked the Brother. 

“Wait and see, Brother, but don’t you give it away. 


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Promise me that you won’t tell a soul what you have seen 
me do and I will let you in. on the sport.” 

“Sure, I wouldn’t tell on you, go have your fun, but do 
not hurt any one.” 

Bob hid the finished cups away where none would find 
them, and then went out under the trees. After walking 
around for some time he came upon Jack O’Brien. 

“Jack,” said he, “will you help me out in a little joke on 
Brother Patrick?” 

“Sure I will,” replied his friend. 

“Well, I am going to have him tell your fortune, and just 
watch his face. It will get as black as your shoes. When 
things are right you just fall into the pit I lay for you. I 
will blacken the cup that I will hand to him. That’s all that 
you need to know now. You’ll see the sport.” 

“I’m wise and with you, Bob.” 

Bob continued on his way until he had an opportunity 
to speak with Brother Patrick, to whom he said : 

“Brother, will you help me play a joke upon Jack 
O’Brien?” 

“I will, Bob, if you will show me that no harm will come 
from it.” 

“Oh, this is a little innocent affair, but it will furnish us 
all with a lot of fun,” said the boy. 

“What is it that you wish me to do ?” 

“Well, Brother, I want you to get Jack O’Brien to let you 
tell his fortune. I have a cup with its bottom all blackened 
up with soot. If he wets his finger and rubs the bottom of 
the cup, it will get blackened, too, and he will not feel it. 
Then you can get him to draw the blackened finger across 
his face and it will, leave a mark there. Will you do it?” 

“Sure; I see the point and I will put the thing through 
for you ; leave it to me.” 

Along about four o’clock in the afternoon, Brother Pat- 


142 


ROBERT KANE’S 


rick had finished his work for a while and came over to 
where a crowd of the boys were sitting, among them Bob 
and Jack. When all seemed in readiness for the manoeuver, 
Bob said: 

“Brother, do you believe in dreams? I had a most 
peculiar one last night.” 

“No, Bob, not in dreams, but, for the fun of the thing, I 
have often had my fortune told. None of them ever came 
true, however.” 

“You don’t believe in them, do you?” 

“Of course not, but I like to see the way they are told. 
One way, especially. The one that they use the cups and 
water in ; it is very difficult, too.” 

“Tell us about it,” said Bob. 

“I can’t very well explain it, but I could demonstrate it, 
if I only had the cups and the water.” 

“It is easy enough to get those two articles. I’ll get them. 
But whose will you tell ?” 

“Oh, I don’t care much whose it is ; O’Brien there looks 
like a fair subject.” 

“All right,” said Jack, “tell mine, Brother. Bob, you get 
the cups and water.” 

Bob started for the cups which he had laid so carefully 
away for this very occasion. 

“Now, Jack, you must not look into your cup of water. 
Keep your eyes earnestly set on mine, as I will keep mine 
set on yours, from the time that the cups are placed in our 
hands. If you should see the water, your fortune will be 
broken.” 

“All right, Brother ■ I’ll keep my eyes set on yours.” 

“You must imitate me to the letter, but don’t laugh or 
smile even though I do.” 

“I won’t, Brother, if I can help it.” 

Bob returned to them carrying the two cups, filled to the 


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143 


brim with cool water. He handed one to each of his two 
victims, who were now glaring at one another. The innocent 
Brother held his cup on a level about even with his waist 
and the equally as innocent Jack did likewise and- he looked 
the Brother sternly in the eye. 

“I do not know,” said Bob, “whether or not I have them 
too full for you.” 

“The fuller the better,” replied the Brother. “Now, Jack, 
sit there directly in front of me and we’ll begin ; don’t take 
your eyes off of mine.” 

Down deep into his cup went the pious man’s big long 
finger, and so did that of Jack. Then on the bottom of his 
cup he rubbed it while Jack did the same with his. Up to 
his forehead and across it then he quickly drew it, and so 
did Jack draw his. Then there was a roar among the boys, 
as a long black mark appeared upon the faces of each where 
their fingers had touched. Brother Patrick thought that 
they were laughing at Jack and he joined them. Jack 
thought that they were laughing at the poor man facing him 
and he, too, had to laugh. The good Brother was elated 
over the outcome and, in order to hurry the final results, 
along, he placed the palm of his big hand over the top of his 
cup and shook the \yater all over it. Jack did just as he did. 
The brother then rubbed his whole palm over the bottom of 
his cup and delayed only long enough to make sure that 
Jack had gotten alMhat he possibly could upon his hand. 
Then he began to smear it all over his face, but he had to 
stop to laugh at Jack, who had so cleverly imitated him. 

“You’re a fine subject, Jack, my lad. Now you go and 
look into a looking glass and you will see your fortune.” 

The joke dawned upon Jack then, and he turned up and 
took a look at the bottom of the cup that he still held in his 
hand, but he only smiled and said : 


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“Well, Brother, if you take a peep at your own face you 
will see some fortune, too.” 

The Brother stopped his hearty shout and with a sheepish 
expression upon his face, he slowly allowed his eyes to fall 
until they rested upon his dirty hands. He reddened, 
then smiled, and began to walk towards Bob But Bob 
did not stop to let him get closer. He wheeled quickly and 
began to run as fast as his lively legs could carry him, with 
the Brother trailing at his heels. Bob’s course led him 
directly to the lake shore and, when he reached it, the good 
man was so close behind him that he did not stop. Out into 
the water he scrambled until he was wet up to his waist. 
Then he turned to the other, who had remained upon dry 
land, and said to him : 

“Brother, oh, Brother, wait a minute ; let me explain.” 

“Explain nothing,” replied Brother Patrick. “I was not 
in my right senses when I allowed myself to be drawn into 
any affair that you were engineering.” 

“What’s the trouble here?” said the voice of Father 
Duffy, who came hurrying down to the water’s edge. 

“Matter, Father,” said the excited Brother. “See what 
that rogue did to me,” and he turned his face to the priest. 

Father Duffy broke into a loud laugh, as he said : 

“Brother, your face is a sight. For heaven’s sake, go 
wash it. I’ll listen to your complaint afterwards, but leave 
the boy to me, no matter what he has done. Bob, get out of 
there before you catch your death of cold. Go change your 
clothes, and then report to me.” 


SCHOOLDAYS 


145 


CHAPTER X. 

CROSS COUNTRY. 

HIS year Christmas fell upon a Saturday. School 
would close after the Tuesday session of classes 
and would open again on the Thursday morning 
after the New Year. This arrangement would 
permit the boys to sleep at home, in their cosy beds, on the 
Wednesday night just preceding the great feast. Bob, like 
the others, had begun to count the days, while they went 
slipping by, and, each morning, when he had drawn his pen 
or pencil through the date upon a calendar, which he kept 
at his desk, he would smile and hold it high for little Jimmie 
Ryan to gaze upon it from across the aisle. Jimmie’s uncle 
had granted him permission to accompany Bob to his home 
during the holidays, and the two boys had talked over and 
laid many plans for the trip, and Jimmie was looking for- 
ward to the vacation recess with as much anxiety as any of 
the others. They had studied the time tables of the great 
railroad, and Bob had already communicated to his father 
the exact train and time upon which they should arrive. 

But Bob had a few experiences which happened to him 
before the arrival of the time fixed for his departure for 
home, and, I think, they are worth relating to you. 

The morning session on the Saturday just preceding 
Christmas had been, for years past, set ahead and held on 
the Wednesday afternoon preceding that day. This had 
been done because the whole of Saturday might then be 
given over to a contest, which was known among them as 



146 


ROBERT KANE’S 


“Cross Country.” Cross Country had always been great 
fun for them, because the lateness of the season generally 
made the accomplishment of the sport very difficult. All 
who wished to could compete in it. 

Over on the Sanderson farm, long before Bill had bought 
it, the former owner had permitted the Fathers to erect a 
pole upon the field immediately behind the large barn. 
When Bill had purchased the place and had become aware 
of the reason for the pole having been placed there, he at 
once sent word to his neighbors that they might continue to 
use it for the same purpose. Upon this occasion, Father 
Doyle would write a note upon a small piece of paper and 
have it inserted into a slot at the top of the pole. Those of 
the boys who entered the play would then choose sides and 
divide themselves into ten sections, or relays. The side that 
got to and up this pole first and would return the note safely 
to the Director would receive the prize, which was ten beau- 
tiful books; one for each boy. The course laid out for the 
race took them around the upper part of the lake and down 
on the other side to the rear of Sanderson’s barn. The 
distance covered would probably measure about six miles. 

Very late, after classes had been dismissed on the after- 
noon just before Cross Country, Bob met Brother Patrick, 
as he was walking down the drive, dressed for parts un- 
known to him. 

“Where to this time ?” asked our hero. 

“To place the paper that will win the prize, you young 
rascal,” replied the Brother, and he waved it far from the 
reach of Bob. 

“May I go with you, Brother?” again asked our friend. 

“What for, you scamp ; to cause, me more trouble and 
worry? No, sir; I’m wise enough to know when I am well 
off, and free from you,” responded the good man. 

“Oh, Brother, don’t hold a grudge against me. I was well 


SCHOOLDAYS 


147 


punished for what I did to you at the lake, and I took it like 
a man. Won’t you prove to me that you, too, really forgive 
me, as you said you did?” 

“You are up to some trick, you scamp, and I know it. 
But find out if you can go alone. I will wait here for you.” 

Bob ran off to get permission to go alone wijth him. The 
first priest he met was Father Shean, and, after a short plea, 
as only Bob could make it, the kind priest told him that he 
might accompany the Brother. 

“I can go,” he said, upon returning to the pious man. 
“Father Shean has said so.” 

“Well, come along then,” replied the Brother, “but re- 
member that my eye is on you all the time, and I’ll stand for 
no conniving.” 

“Brother, you are too suspicious,” exclaimed the boy. 

“Not too suspicious: just suspicious,” remarked the re- 
ligious, “for I know that you have something that means no 
good to me tucked away in that roguish brain of yours.” 

“Brother, I am a friend of yours, and will never, inten- 
tionally, bring harm to you.” 

“You’re a friend to no man, when your mind gets work- 
ing. If the harm you do is not intentional, then it is only 
because you have not the proper control of all your facul- 
ties.” 

“All right, Brother, we will not argue any more about it, 
for I know that you don’t mean half what you say.” 

“I can’t say half that I mean concerning you,” replied 
the good man, but there was a smart little twinkle in the 
corner of his eyes when he did so. 

When they had reached the Sanderson farm, they turned 
in the entrance of the drive that led to the fields in back of 
the barn. Bob looked about the place, as he trudged along 
at the Brother’s side, but he saw no one except the lady her- 
self, who stepped to her window to see who it was that might 


148 


ROBERT KANE'S 


be trespassing. But she quickly disappeared from sight, too, 
for she knew why they had come. They reached the wooden 
bars that served as a gate at the end of the drive where it 
opened into the field in which the pole, that we have men- 
tioned, was located, and they soon stood at the bottom of the 
object they sought. 

“Well, Brother, here we are; but how do you place the 
note?” asked Bob. 

“I have to climb it and place the paper in a slot on the top, 
which has been cut there for that very purpose,” replied the 
good man. 

“Well, let me see you do it!” said Bob, as he stretched his 
mouth in one of his broad smiles. 

“Not since you seem so anxious for it, you scamp,” cried 
the brother. “What is it that you would do? Up you go, 
yourself, for you are younger than I am.” 

“Oh, but, Brother ” 

“No buts about this thing this time,” continued the boss. 
“Your wily brain shall be foiled of its schemes. Up the pole 
you go.” ( 

“All right,” replied Bob, “if you have an idea that I 
would do anything to you, I’ll go up the pole. Is that why 
you let me come with you ; to do your work?” 

“It is not. If you had not come, I would not have to tire 
my poor head by figuring methods in how I could preserve 
my old bones from cracking, and up Fd go myself.” 

“Give me the note,” said Bob, and he stepped to the foot 
of the staff, ready for the climb to its top. 

Brother Patrick took the note from his coat pocket, and, 
as he handed it to Bob, a gust of wind blew open the folds, 
and the boy’s quick eye saw the words that Father Doyle 
had written upon it in his bold, large hand: “Veni, vidi, 
vici.” But he quietly folded it again and placed it in the 
rear pocket of his trousers. Up the pole he climbed, and, in 


SCHOOLDAYS 


149 


a few seconds, with his strong legs interlocked around it, he 
perched himself as nimbly as a squirrel. Then he looked all 
about the ground, as if he were in search of something, and 
very meekly asked of the Brother, who stood below him 
watching every move : 

“Brother, will you kindly throw me up a stick so that I 
can open up this slot a little wider?” 

At once the innocent man began to look about him upon 
the ground in an endeavor to find one that would be strong 
enough to answer the purpose for which the lad had asked 
it, but he had to wander away some distance before he 
accomplished it and returned to where he had stood. In 
the meantime Bob had reached into his inside coat pocket 
and pulled forth an old envelope which he had there. He 
had also drawn out his pencil and with it he had written upon 
the unused side of the envelope the words, “A fool there 
was.” When the Brother had resumed his position, ready 
to toss up the stick which Bob had requested, the boy called 
down to him, while he worked the envelope deep down into 
the slot : 

“I don’t believe that I will need the stick, Brother. I can 
get it in all right. It will be quite safe as I have it now.” 

“Come down, then, and let us be on our way back. You 
hang to it like a guilty bird. Come down. If I had not kept 
my eye on you every minute, I would swear that you had 
done something wrong ; I surely would.” 

Down the pole slid Bob, and landed safely on the ground. 
He secretly took his jack knife from his pocket and let it fall 
beside the heap of dirt that was raised about the hole into 
which the pole had been set, and they at once started from 
the field. When they had passed the barn, where Bob 
hesitated for a minute as he took note of something, and had 
reached the house, Mrs. Sanderson stepped to her doorway 
and cried to them : 


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ROBERT KANE'S 


“Won’t you come in, Brother, and have a cup of tea ?” 

“I think not, Mrs. Sanderson, I will not trouble you.’’ 

“It is no trouble, and I have it all prepared for you. I 
saw you as you passed the house on your way to the lot.” 

“Well, since you have gone to that trouble, it would be a 
shame to disappoint you, and we will stop for a minute. But 
we mustn’t tarry long for I have still much work to do 
before my sleep is due me.” 

“Brother,” said Bob, in an innocent tone of voice, “may I 
return to the pole to get my knife which I left there ?” 

“Sure, I knew you would get from under my eye, if you 
possibly could do so. It’s little harm that you can do to me 
now ; I took good care of that. Hurry along and I will be 
waiting for you in the house here.” 

Bob left him in a brisk run, and the Brother, who watched 
him for a moment, thought that he really meant to return as 
quickly, for he was still running when he disappeared behind 
the barn. But here he came to a complete stop before a 
barrel that had been sawed in half and in which the farm 
hands had placed the necessary ingredients to make soft 
soap. He pulled forth his clean hhndkerchief and plunged 
it deep into the soap, and then, seizing it by its four corners, 
he filled it with all of the mixture that it would hold. Run- 
ning as fast as he could, he carried it to the foot of the pole 
that he had left only a few minutes before. In a twinkling, 
he had climbed half the distance to the top with it and then 
he began to paint the pole until he had nearly returned to 
the bottom. When he had finished, he threw his handker- 
chief away, and, with the long blade of his knife, which he 
had no trouble in finding, he cleaned his clothing as best he 
could. Then, feeling quite satisfied with his appearance, he 
returned to the house, whistling a lively tune, as innocently 
as a little lamb baas for its dinner. 

. “I suppose you had to look all about the farm for that 


SCHOOLDAYS 


151 


knife of yours,” said the Brother. “I could have made you 
one in less time than it took you to find it.” 

“I didn’t have any trouble to locate it, Brother; was I 
long?” 

“Long enough, I assure you. I drank my own tea and 
yours too, while you were after it.” 

The next morning, at about half-past eight, the boys 
walked away from the college to assume their respective 
positions for the race. Bob had been assigned to the ninth 
relay, which was just beyond the one that would, in the final 
dash, bring the prize-winning note to their Director. The 
ground that he had to cover had been sectioned off between 
the cabins and the Hall. When they had reached the camp, 
he, and all those that were to compete with him, collected 
about the pavilion, and he himself had taken a seat upon the 
same bench that had been occupied by Brother Patrick when 
he told Jack O’Brien’s fortune. Father Shean, with a large 
pair of field glasses in his hand, remained with them. He 
carried these glasses, because, with their aid, he could look 
across the lake and see the pole and the ground around it, 
from a position in the pavilion. When the line had been 
distributed to their places, Phelan, who acted as pole tender, 
would signal him that such was the fact, and he, in turn, 
would signal the starter on the lawn in back of the college. 
At last the signals had been given and the race had been 
begun. It did not take very long for the first and second 
division to reach Bob’s party, and from that time they gave 
all their attention to the goal on Sanderson’s farm. Father 
Shean, perched high upon a table, watched through his field 
glasses, which he kept almost constantly to his eyes. In a 
short time he exclaimed, allowing a few seconds to pass 
between each remark. 

“There is one of them. It is Murphy. He is at the pole. 
Up he goes. My, I guess he fell. No, he is on his feet and 


152 


ROBERT KANE’S 


talking to Phelan. There he is, going up again. No, he does 
not seem able to climb. There is Dooley. Murphy is letting 
him try it ; letting him take the prize from under his nose. 
Dooley is climbing. No, he is down, too. What can be the 
matter? There is Higgins; he should be able to make it. 
They’re giving him a hand at it. They’re boosting him, as 
sure as you live. He is going up. They’re away from him. 
He is doing fine. Lord, he came down like a shot. What 
can be the matter? Boys, I wager that that pole is greased.” 

“Oh, who would grease it, Father; didn’t some one go 
up it last night to place the note?” asked the clever Bob. 

“That’s right, but there is trouble over there, nevertheless. 
There is Grace; if he can’t make it, then something is up. 
He is going fine. No ; he, too, is back on the ground. What 
do you know about that ? Phelan is signalling. He says that 
the last man is in, but that can’t be. I guess that they are 
giving it up. Yes, they are, for some of them are walking 
towards the road to return home the shorter route. There 
is something wrong there.” 

“Is the race off, Father?” asked Bob, who felt remorseful 
for the first time, when he heard the priest say this. 

“It appears so, for there is O’Brien,” replied the holy 
man, “and Phelan is sending him along to the road with the 
others.” 

Poor Bob. He really did feel this most keenly. With 
bent head and hands sunk deeply into his pants pockets, he 
walked away alone. As he wandered back towards the col- 
lege, he muttered many times to himself, and he viciously 
kicked at every stone or stick that happened to be in his way. 
He revolved, in his mind, all the mischievous actions that he 
had performed the evening before, and he could not con- 
scientiously find any sane reason for having done any one of 
them. He thought that he had left all those boyish pranks 
behind him when he had left his home and friends of former 


SCHOOLDAYS 


153 


days. He grieved to think that his old faults were only 
asleep within him and that they could be awakened upon the 
slightest pretense of what few might call fun. If Brother 
Patrick had not acted so suspicious of him, would he have 
■even considered such foolishness? He had spoiled the whole 
play for many who might have enjoyed it and who evidently 
were until they came to the feature in it that he had helped 
to prepare. He determined to try, if he got out of this mess 
without trouble, harder than ever to overcome his weak- 
nesses. However, he had no sooner than made these good 
resolutions than he stepped into sight of the tenth relay, who 
had not yet seen him. 

Out came his hands from his pockets, and a broad smile 
spread over his young features. Then he began to run 
madly towards the boys who stood waiting and anxious to 
receive the paper that would mean victory to the one that 
would be lucky enough to receive it from his partner. As he 
ran, he quietly pulled from his rear pocket the note which he 
had failed to place in the slot at the top of the pole after he 
had been given it by Brother Patrick for that purpose. 
Waving it high above his head, and crying loudly with all the 
boyish vim within him, he dashed on. The heavyweight, 
Walter Hogan, who stood with legs wide apart and ready to 
receive the note from Bob, and return it to Father Doyle, 
also cried in his excitement. Hogan, the biggest boy in the 
school, weighed over two hundred pounds, though he was 
hut sixteen years of age. 

“flere you are, Fatty ; here you are,” yelled Bob. “We’re 
winners; we’re winners. Hustle it along; hustle it along.” 

Fatty grabbed the note from his hand, and he, too, started 
on a wild dash towards the college. Bob kept up his speed, 
and trudged at the heels of Hogan. 

“Go it, Fatty, go it,” he shouted, as the massive form of 
the husky boy plunged on before him, and the others took up 


154 


ROBERT KANE’S 


the cry. But the poor fellow had not been built for speed. 
His wind began to pound within him and he soon showed 
signs of weakness, though he staggered on his feet. 

“Keep it up, Fatty; don’t weaken; you are doing fine. 
Father Doyle will be proud of you. Keep it up,” yelled Bob. 

“I’ll never make it, Bob. I’m getting all in. I can’t make 
it.” 

“You must make it; we mustn’t lose the prize now that I 
have, placed it in your keeping. Go to it; keep up your 
speed; don’t weaken!” encouraged Bob. 

On again started the big fellow, with the others at his 
heels, always encouraging; always urging. He puffed and 
blew. The perspiration rolled down his cheeks in large 
drops, though the winter had heralded its approach by 
frequent flurries of snow and cold winds from the north. 
Hogan grew weaker and weaker, but he did his best to dash 
along. Once he fell, but willing hands aided him to his feet, 
and he scrambled along again, as they were urging him to. 
Finally he stumbled, and saved himself from falling heavily 
to the ground by throwing his massive form on a large 
boulder in front of him, and upon which he rolled himself 
into a sitting position, and sat there to regain his breath. 

“We’ll lose, we’ll lose,” wailed Bob, and he snatched off 
his cap and began to tear at his thick black hair. “After all 
our efforts, you will be disqualified for lying down on us. 
Oh, mercy, why did they pick me to serve with the likes of 
you.” 

“Here, take the note yourself. I don’t want it,” said 
Hogan, as he tendered the paper to our hero. 

“No, no,” answered Bob, “that would never do. You 
must get it in and deliver it without a protest.” 

Up jumped the big fellow again, and he started to stagger 
on, with Bob egging him at his heels. When they had 
reached and crossed the baseball diamond, Hogan seemed to 


SCHOOLDAYS 


155 


take new life, for he began to stretch out his steps, but, as 
he looked towards Bob, who now ran at his side, his features 
told of his exertion and his sufferings. Bang, he went 
against the heavy door of the Hall, for he could not stop 
himself. He had not even strength left within him for that. 
Bob had to open it for him and to shove him inside. With- 
out uttering a word, he rushed down the long corridor and 
up to the door of the Director’s office. He did not stop to 
knock, for his mind had deserted him, and Bob was not 
there to think for him. Into the office he dragged his two 
hundred and ten pounds and down he dropped them into 
one of the priest’s large easy chairs, puffing and blowing like 
a steam ’engine. 

“What in the world is the matter with you?” asked Father 
Doyle, as he turned hurriedly from the window out of which 
he had been looking. But the poor boy could not answer 
him. While he gazed longingly up into the eyes of the good, 
man, he simply raised his big hand and slowly waved it in a 
sign of his distress. 

“Are you ill or dying?” inquired the priest, and he hurried 
to the faucet to bring him water. But, when he had offered 
it to the boy, Hogan gently shoved the kind hand to one side. 

“Can’t you speak ?” asked the priest, and Hogan shook his 
head. 

Father Doyle seated himself in his chair, and, with his 
hands pressed firmly upon his knees, he looked steadily into 
the eyes of Hogan, who rolled and rolled his head, to and 
fro, upon his thick neck, and stopped its motion only occa- 
sionally, when he would gaze back into the eyes of the good 
man. In about five minutes, which seemed an age to both of 
them, Hogan began to laugh very strenuously, and it dawned 
upon Father Doyle that the boy might be losing his mind 
entirely. 


156 


ROBERT KANE'S 


“For heaven’s sake, tell me, what is the matter?” cried the 
priest. 

“In a minute, Father, in a minute,” replied the boy, as he 
bent himself forward in his glee. 

When the minute was up, Hogan jumped suddenly to his 
feet and stepped quickly to the Director’s desk, upon which 
he rested one of his big, broad hands. 

“Father Doyle,” said he, “I have the happy honor to 
inform you that my team is the winner of the Cross Coun- 
try, and I do hereby deliver to you, in their behalf, the note 
that will so certify.” 

Father Doyle began to smile and then to laugh, in his own 
loud, hearty manner. He unfolded the paper that Hogan 
had handed to him and read the words that were written 
upon it. 

“I am delighted, Walter, and I congratulate you and your 
associates. But you surely deserve to win, since you have 
nearly killed yourself to accomplish it.” 

“If it were not for Robert Kane, I could not have done so. 
He got me here, however he did it.” 

“I shall deliver the prizes to you, and the others who aided 
you to win, this evening in the study hall.” 

“If you don’t mind, Father, I shall go to the dormitory 
and rest awhile.” 

“Do so, my boy, for half an hour or so at least.” 

Soon, those who had reached the pole and had tried to 
climb to the top of it to obtain the coveted note, arrived back 
at the college. Their clothes were covered with dirt and the 
soap with which Bob had painted the pole on the night 
before. They gave vent to their indignation and were in the 
humor to tear to pieces the person who had played such a 
trick upon them. But, when they learned that Hogan had 
delivered the note safely to Father Doyle, the mystery be- 


SCHOOLDAYS 


157 


came a nightmare among them and their exclamations prom- 
ised of mischief to some one. 

“Impossible,” cried Dooley ; “Hogan was on my team, 
and I did not even get up the pole, let alone passing the note 
along in the race.” 

That evening Father Doyle and Father Duffy walked 
into the study hall while all the boys were bending over 
their books. Both men took chairs upon the rostrum and 
Father Doyle said, so that all could hear : 

“Walter Hogan, stand up.” 

Hogan rose to his feet beside his chair with a rather sus- 
picious expression upon his fleshy face. 

“From whom did you get the note which you delivered to 
me this afternoon?” asked the Director. 

“From Robert Kane, Father,” answered the boy, not 
knowing what else to say. 

“Sit down, Walter. Robert Kane, stand up,” continued 
the priest. 

Bob slowly climbed to his feet as he was bid, but his head 
was high. 

“From whom did you get the note that you handed to 
Walter Hogan?” asked the good man, acting as the inves- 
tigator. 

“From Brother Patrick,” answered Bob, in a clear, loud 
voice. 

“From Brother Patrick,” repeated Father Doyle in his 
astonishment, and Father Duffy, at his side, started in his 
surprise. 

“Yes, Father,” responded Bob. 

“Robert, are you telling the truth?” said the priest, and 
his face showed signs of his nervousness. 

“Father, I am,” assured the boy. 

“Tell me about it, Robert,” demanded the Director, in a 
voice of anguish. 


158 


ROBERT KANE’S 


Bob then, without any further hesitation and before all 
his schoolmates, explained the trick that he had played upon 
the brother and, in doing so, he relieved him from all 
responsibility in it. He then mentioned the sorrow he had 
felt, when he had learned through the exclamations of 
Father Shean, as he stood watching their failure at the pole, 
that the race had been declared off. He did not excuse 
himself from blame, when he told of how he had thought of 
making Hogan believe that he had delivered the note unto 
him in the regular manner, and urged him on to race pell- 
mell into Father Doyle's office. When he finished, Father 
Doyle said : 

“Young man, how are you going to satisfy the boys 
whose clothing you have ruined with the grease with which 
you besmeared the pole?" 

“Father," replied Bob, “it is nothing but soft soap, and 
if they will let me, I will remove it with a brush and a little 
cold water." 

“Come into my office at once, sir." 

Bob followed the two priests irto the Director’s office, 
and there sentence was pronounced upon him. He really 
was punished severely for his actions on this day and he 
took it, as he always did, when he had it coming to him. His 
report, to his father at home, showed a marked decrease in 
deportment at the end of that month, and Mr. Kane had the 
only opportunity that Bob gave him during his school days, 
to reprimand him. Pole climbing was for ever after dis- 
carded at St. Patrick’s, and sport on cross country took 
another form. 


SCHOOLDAYS 


159 


CHAPTER XI. 

CHRISTMAS VACATION 

S the train pulled into Wexford, at two-thirty 
o’clock, on the Wednesday afternoon just pre- 
ceding Christmas, two young men sprang from 
their seat in the last coach. They hurriedly picked 
up their suit cases and walked to the rear platform of the 
car. When the train had finally come to a complete stop, they 
quickly descended to the ground and, without pausing to 
look about them, they advanced at once around the depot to 
its opposite side. One of them, the bigger lad, gazed slowly 
among the numerous automobiles that stood in the space 
provided for them, and suddenly exclaimed : 

“Come on, Jimmie; I see the car,” for, as you have 
probably guessed, it was our hero, Robert Kane, and his 
friend, little Jimmie Ryan. The two boys almost ran as they 
pushed their way forward among the crowd. 

“Hello, Harry! Dad was too busy to come, eh! Aunt 
Mary wants to meet us at home?” 

“Your father had to attend a meeting. He didn’t say 
anything to me about your Aunt Mary, so I didn’t call for 
her. How are you? You are looking great. I am glad to 
see you home again. You’ve taken on another inch and 
about ten or fifteen pounds, haven’t you?” 

“I feel immense, Harry. This is Mr. Ryan, a classmate 
of mine. He will spend the holidays with me. Jimmie, 
shake hands with Mr. Graham; part of our family. Let 
us go home, Harry, till I see Aunt Mary. Drive slowly so 



160 


ROBERT KANE’S 


that I can take in the dear old town again. This is a power- 
ful car, all right, when she can travel through this snow, eh r 
Jimmie ?” 

Before the big car had come to a stop in front of the 
Kane home, Bob had alighted to the sidewalk. He fairly 
yanked his suit case from where it had been thrown in the 
vacant front seat and, when he had shouted over his 
shoulder, “Come on, Jimmie; this is where we bunk,” he 
started up the cement walk towards the veranda without 
waiting for his friend. Up the five steps he climbed and 
threw the great front door wide open and entered the house 
without another sound or warning. Through the long hall 
he wandered and into the little living room. There he 
grabbed his dear Aunt Mary lovingly in his big, strong 
arms. 

“Hello, Aunty, dear; how are you? Here I am, your 
Robert, home again, just as we said I should be.” 

“Oh, Robert, how glad I am to see you back. Isn’t this 
Jimmie Ryan, whom I met at St. Patrick’s? Sure it is. 
And it’s glad I am that you came, too, Jimmie. Sarah, make 
some tea and toast for these hungry boys. Oh, Robert, how 
well and handsome you look.” 

“Well, but not handsome, Aunty,” replied the boy. 
“Please don’t make a girl of me. That tea and toast sounds 
good, doesn’t it, Jimmie? I’d better it, though, Aunty, if I 
were you,” and Sarah did before they had finished the 
luncheon through which they chatted merrily. 

After they had finished eating, Bob again picked up his 
suit case and said to his Aunt Mary : 

“Where shall I store Jimmie for the holidays, Aunty?” 

“In the spare room next your own, for he will find it 
pleasanter, if he stay near you,” replied the good woman. 

“Come along, then, Jimmie, until I show you your stall 


SCHOOLDAYS 


161 


and you may wash up a bit, if you desire We will then 
take a walk over town to see dad.” 

The two boys then climbed the back stairway and, when 
they had come to the room which was to be Jimmie’s, Bob 
opened the door for him and bade him to enter and to make 
himself feel perfectly at home. He then excused himself 
for a few minutes and entered his own room. Nothing had 
been touched, or else it appeared that way, since he had left 
it less than four months ago. The same clean white spread 
covered his large brass bed. The same chairs stood in the 
same places. The table, with its pretty centerpiece; the 
dresser, with its pink tidy; the chiffonier, even the rugs 
upon the floor, still rested, where they had since he could 
remember. Aunt Mary had sfeen to that. The same pictures 
looked down upon him from their places upon the wall and, 
when Bob had tossed his suit case upon a window seat, he 
stepped reverently over to one of them, and, standing upon 
the rounds of a chair, he fondly kissed it, just as he had 
done, when he had last looked upon it before bidding it 
farewell. He then unpacked his case, for he had learned to 
care for his own clothing while he was away. When he had 
finished, he called to Jimmie, and the little fellow came 
strolling in. 

“This is my room, Jimmie. What do you think of it?” 

“It is fine, Bob ; you surely have a dandy home.” 

The boys were soon on their way over town. As they 
walked along the street, Bob, upon several occasions, was 
saluted and made to halt and chat awhile with some one of 
his many acquaintances. Their congratulations upon his 
general appearance was the main topic of their conversa- 
tions, but some did not forget to laughingly tease him about 
the reports that they had read of him concerning his actions 
during the wreck. Miss Chaplin, his former school teacher, 
who used to scold him so, was probably the most enthusiastic 


162 


ROBERT KANE’S 


in her endeavors to compliment him. Even Alex Thompson 
was pleasant to him, # as he yelled a “Hello, Gugau,” from 
across the street. 

They reached the store in reasonable time and, as they 
passed along among the boxes and bales and barrels, piled 
almost to the ceiling, the clerks and their assistants came 
forward, one and two at a time, to show their welcome of 
his returning home again. He reciprocated all their kind 
expressions as heartily as they tendered them to him and 
continued on to the office in the rear. 

“Well, well, here’s my Robert,” joyfully cried Mr. Kane, 
when his son appeared before him. “Welcome home, my 
son,” and he placed his arm affectionately around him. 
“How are you ?” 

“Fine, dad; never better,” replied Bob, and he, too, 
embraced his father. “I brought Jimmie Ryan home with 
me to spend the holidays.” . 

“Welcome to our city, Jimmie,” continued the elder 
Kane, and he began to make the little lad feel comfortable 
and glad that he had come. The three talked on and long. 
Bob finally said to his father: 

“Dad, how is Jake making out?” 

“Excellently,” replied Mr. Kane. “At first, because he 
is so young and was so inexperienced, he caused us a little 
trouble, but we got him straightened out at last and now we 
are quite satisfied with him.” 

“I am glad,” said Bob; “where is he?” 

“Up on the third floor in the receiving department.” 

“I think that I shall go up to see him. Come on, Jimmie.” 

“No, you let Jimmie stay here, for I want to talk to 
him.” 

Bob went out into the spacious department alone and 
crossed to where the old cumbersome elevator made its way 
through the floors, as it carried the heavy wares either to 


SCHOOLDAYS 


163 


the receiving room, or back down again to some one of the 
many spaces, into which they were to be stored until sold. 
He pushed the little button that had been set into the wall 
and soon he saw the covers in the floor above his head open 
wide, and the elevator come slowly gliding down to him. 

“Hello, Bobby; are you home again? It’s glad I am to 
see you,” said the poor, bent, old gray-haired man, who 
operated the lift. He had been doing that self-same thing 
since Bob could well remember. 

“How are you, Pat? I’m glad to see you, too. How 
are the family and all the kids?” 

“Fine and dandy, me bucko. Margaret was married, 
since you went away, and I now have another mouth to feed. 
Where to, Bob ?” 

“Third floor, Pat. I’ll see you later.” 

Bob stood quite still for some time, after he had alighted 
to the floor on the third story of his father’s store. As he 
stood there, he saw before him, his dear friend Jake, while 
he, with bill file and pencil in his hand, and talking all the 
time in his noisy manner, jumped here and there among the 
few men who worked under him. 

“You were two shy on that spice there, Morgan. Pull 
them out of something. Hurry it up. Check on the coffee. 
Check on the soap. Open up those boxes over there, 
Hickey. By gosh, do I see right? Is that you, Bob? No, 
the small box, I said. I’m glad to see you; how’s your 
ankle? I’ll see to that one in a minute,” and he stepped 
over to meet his friend. 

“The ankle is all right now, Jake. As well as ever. I 
am glad to see you. How are you making out?” 

“Pretty good. The job’s all right. I thought that I was 
going to get the g. b. once or twice, but your dad is a white 
man. He soon got me straightened out. He told me yes- 
terday that on Monday I am to start down stairs in the 


164 


ROBERT KARE'S 


shipping department as Metzgar’s assistant. A three dollar 
raise, too. Some quick jump, eh?” 

“I am happy to know it, Jake. I really am.” 

“How long are you home for, Bob? Send that load 
downstairs, boys.” 

“Until after the New Year.” 

“Good ! I’ll come up to the house to-night. Will you be 
home?” 

“Sure; come ahead.” 

As Bob re-entered his father’s office, he discovered that 
gentleman bent forward in a great outburst of laughter. 
Litthe Jimmie sat quite close to him with his face beaming 
in smiles and pleasure. Mr. Kane had kept the innocent 
little lad from accompanying Bob on his visit to Jake and 
had very cleverly induced him to relate many of Bob’s 
pranks at St. Patrick’s. The man could not contain himself, 
when he had heard some of them, for Jimmie excelled in 
telling stories. Mr. Kane appreciated fun as well as any 
other true man does, providing it did not mean annoyance 
to another nor interference upon another’s rights and prin- 
ciples. He had been young once himself and he had not for- 
gotten the many tricks and frolics that he had, at that time, 
participated in. From experience, he knew that boys would 
be boys and, that a lad who did not show some signs of the 
deviltry locked up within him, was not worth his salt. 

I must not forget to tell you of a conversation that took 
place in the Kane home on the same evening. The dishes 
had been cleared away and the family sat about the table 
over their coffee and sauce. 

“Well, Jimmie,” said Mr. Kane, “how do you like our 
city?” 

“Very much, Mr. Kane, all that I have seen of it.” 

“It is a very busy little place,” continued Mr. Kane, “and 
it is going to be busier. It might pay you to settle here when 


SCHOOLDAYS 


165 


you are ready to start out in life. We might be of some 
assistance in placing you right.” 

“It is hard telling where I shall be once I start out in 
life. I shall have to go wherever I am sent and to do what- 
ever I am bid.” ' 

“Oh, oh, and why; have you not your own free will?” 

“I have, sir ; and will use it. I am fully determined to 
enter a religious order and to become a priest,” 

“I see,” said Mr. Kane, “and may God bless you for it.” 

“That is a noble determination,” said Aunt Mary. “Our 
Bob may do the same.” 

“Oh,” laughed Bob’s father ; “not one who would do all 
he has done.” 

“And why not, Peter? Surely he has done nothing 
wrong.” 

Bob had not yet said one word, but he had heard every 
syllable that had been uttered. He noted his Aunt’s sorrow, 
when his father had laughed at her remark and his own 
feelings did not fill him with gladness. He did not wish to 
be the cause of disappointment to . the woman whom he 
dearly loved. He thought that, if he permitted her to con- 
tinue in her anticipations concerning his future, her sorrow 
would only be increased instead of diminished, when the 
time came that he must surely tell her. He looked up into 
her face and hesitated to speak but, when she turned her 
dear eyes upon him and sadly gazed into his, he could no 
longer remain silent. 

“Aunty, dear,” he said, “dad is right. I shall never be a 
priest.” 

“Oh, Robert,” said the sweet woman, and her voice told 
of her unhappy sensation. “You don’t mean it.” 

“I do, Aunty, dear. I promised you that I would consider 
your wishes and I have done so. I am decided not to enter 
a religious life.” 


166 


ROBERT KANE’S 


“I’m sorry, Robert, really sorry and cannot give up hope.” 

“What will you make of yourself then, lad?” asked Mr. 
Kane. 

“I do not know yet, dad. I will have plenty of time to 
think it over.” 

“Well, think well while you are doing so,” urged his 
father. 

“Aunty, I know you feel it badly, and I am sorry that I 
have not been blessed with a vocation to your liking. Please 
do not do so. I understand all that the priesthood is and 
what it means to you. I am only a boy, as I talk to you,, 
perhaps, but I am aware of all that I am saying. If I were 
a Jimmie Ryan, I, too, would probably be a priest. But I 
am not he. I know that the priesthood is the highest dignity 
to which mankind can attain but, to make a good priest, one 
must have that special calling and blessing from Almighty 
God, and for some good reason, He has not seen fit to give it 
to me. Although I honestly wish that I had it, I am confi- 
dent that I have not. But the world needs men ; good men ; 
to do all the soul-saving that a priest cannot do; to reach 
the spots that a priest cannot touch ; to aid the priest in his 
glorious efforts. For your sake and dad’s, as well as my 
own, I pray that I will be such a man no matter what station 
in life, I may finally achieve. I hope that I, the layman, may 
be of some assistance to Jimmie, the priest.” 

After these remarks, Bob was never again urged upon 
this subject. In fact, it was never again mentioned to him 
or in his presence. Whether or not Aunt Mary was still 
hopeful and was still praying for this sacred calling to come 
to her dear boy, is not known. She was ever silent about it. 

The next day Bob met all his old-time friends and play- 
mates who lived in the neighborhood; Fred Gelispie, Tom 
Hart and Andy Curran among them. All showed their hap- 
piness at seeing him again and took little Jimmie into their 


SCHOOLDAYS 


167 


midst, as one of their own. Lastly, late in the day, perhaps, 
they ran into the outstretched hands of George Vance, Bob’s 
favorite chum. Bob and he had slept in the same cribs 
together, while their mothers sat and knitted upon their 
verandas; they had toddled together as kiddies, in their 
baby play ; they had begun school together and had studied 
together; they had always shared in everything they had, 
and had seldom been separated. If such a thing were pos- 
sible, they loved each other as brothers love. George, as 
had Bob, showed much improvement in manners and deport- 
ment, as well as in health and general appearance. They at 
once began to swap stories of their school life, for George 
had as many experiences to relate as our Bob and his friend 
Jimmie. 

Aunt Mary insisted that Mr. Kane should place a tree in 
the parlor, just as he always had, in spite of the fact that he 
pleaded with her that his boy had outgrown such things. 
After midnight mass, the two boys entered the big room to 
view the decorations, and to see what Santy had left them. 
Jimmie hesitated just inside the door, but Bob gently locked 
his arm in one of his friends and drew him slowly over to 
where the tiny candles were calling them in their many 
tongues of fire. The little lad stood smilingly beside our 
hero, who began to pick up the many presents that were 
tagged with cards marked “James.” When the boy’s arms 
were filled with pretty gifts of kindness, he burst suddenly 
into a flood of tears; but they were tears of joy, and he 
could say nothing; not even an expression of his thanks. 
He silently laid them all back into the places from which 
Bob had taken them, and rushed upstairs to his own room. 
Bob understood and let him go, saying to Aunt Mary, who 
ran in to find out what could be the matter : 

“Let him go, Aunty; it is all right. He will join us in 
the morning.” 


168 


ROBERT KANE’S 


Christmas afternoon, Mr. Kane drove up before the house 
behind a fine team of horses, and he called to Aunt Mary to 
come for a drive and to bring the boys along with her. 
They all bundled up in their heavy coats and furs, and Bob 
showed Jimmie about the city. Bob, too, was delighted at 
the chance to see the old familiar streets and sights once 
again. Jimmie now felt at home. 

One day, Mrs. Gelispie sent a note to Bob requesting him 
to come and to bring Jimmie to visit her son Fred on the 
evening following. They, therefore, dressed themselves in 
their best and sallied forth on the evening appointed to 
comply with the kind lady’s wishes. Although they were fit 
to appear in the presence of any company, they could not 
help but .declare their surprise, when, upon entering the 
house, they found about all the other boys and girls of the 
neighborhood assembled in the parlor and the sitting-room. 
Fred had wished to give his friends a party while they were 
all at home. Bob had never cared much for girls’ company, 
although he was far from being bashful among them. 
Jimmie did not seem to mind them in the least, and he flitted 
among all of them, as if he had known each of them all his 
life. He talked with them, played with them, and even sang 
for them, as if he were one of them. Bob, from a rather 
safe distance, watched him and tried hard to disconcert him, 
but he could not. Finally he walked over to where Jimmie 
sat between the Misses Mamie Clair and Julia Bronson, and 
said to him so that they might hear : 

“You are not acting much like a priest, Jimmie.” 

“Well,” replied he, “I am not ordained yet.” 

“And you never will be, if you let that red head of yours 
run away with you.” 

“He is jealous, Jimmie,” laughed Julia. 

“Sure he is,” added Jimmie. 

“No, he isn’t,” said Mamie. 


SCHOOLDAYS 


169 


“As you wish it,” asserted Bob, not caring to begin an 
argument upon the subject. 

Since these two young ladies are to play such an 
important part in the life of our hero, we might as well 
begin to know them well. We may not have the happiness 
to meet them often in this book, but we surely shall in those 
that are to follow, as we continue with the narrative of 
Bob’s life. 

Mamie Clair was a beautiful girl, of that type of beauty 
that generally travels through this world and sacrifices its 
loveliness for others. The same dark, sweet eyes that made 
Aunty Mary’s face so lovely to behold, shone as sweetly 
from among her small features. Her cheeks were plump 
and rosy. Her mouth was perfect and as red as the flower 
that her lips resembled so closely. Her little pointed chin 
was a cosy nest for the dimple that nestled there. Her long, 
thin nose was like an artist’s model. Her pretty, dark hair 
was wavy and in abundance. She was slender and not very 
tall, and about thirteen years of age. She was never known 
to speak ill of any one, and was, upon every occasion, ever 
ready to excuse a wrong that a friend might be accused of. 
She was in the habit, too, of seeking opportunities by which 
she might be of some consolation to one who might need it. 
She was loved by all who knew her, even by the boys about 
the neighborhood, who would tell to her their trials and 
troubles, but, who held her in such esteem that they never 
stepped beyond the bounds of ordinary friendship. 

Miss Julia, Mamie’s closest friend, was of a dififerent type. 
She was all that we might call, if speaking of an individual 
of the opposite sex, well put together. She was said by all 
who knew her to be a very pretty girl. Her cheeks were just 
as rosy as were Mamie’s, and her lips were*just as perfect, 
but they were formed in bolder lines. Her eyes of blue were 
also bright, but with that light which seemed to shine for 


170 


ROBERT KANE’S 


naught but ease and pleasure. Her nose was short and very 
saucy. Her chin was broad and firmly cut, and it, too, con- 
tained a dimple. Her hair, the secret of all her charms, was 
of that beautiful brown that has never failed to attract atten- 
tion. She, too, was a favorite among her friends, but not as 
Mamie was. She was never shy of means and ways by 
which she could hold her own among them, and was often 
known to better them either in a wrestling match or an argu- 
ment. She was quite capable of looking after her own 
affairs. 

Now, Bob had known both of these young ladies since 
childhood. In fact, they had been numbered among his 
playmates to the very day that he had first left home for St. 
Patrick’s. He loved both girls with that same boyish love 
that he cherished for George Vance or Fred Gelispie, for 
Tom Hart or Andy Curran. When, just before Thanksgiv- 
ing, he had received a very sweet little letter from Mamie, 
enclosed in one sent to him by Aunt Mary, Bob had an- 
swered it, just as he would have had it been written to him 
by any of the four lads mentioned' above. 

The next afternoon Jimmie strolled from the house, when 
Bob had run across the street to talk for a while with 
George. When Bob was returning, his attention was at- 
tracted towards the front window of the Clair home by 
heavy rapping upon the pane. He looked in that direction 
and saw Jimmie’s red head bobbing up and down between 
those of Mamie and Julia. He smiled in his considerations. 
He waved to them and tipped his hat, but did not attempt 
to stop. Mamie’s face at once became very sad, because she 
thought that Bob had been offended in some manner which 
she did not know. She ran to the door and called after him. 
Bob halted and*again raised his hat. 

“What is it, Mamie?” asked he. 

“Won’t you come in a minute; your friend is here,” she 


SCHOOLDAYS 


171 


replied to his remark, and he immediately retraced his steps 
to the entrance of her home and ascended the stoop. 

“Surely I will, girlie, if you wish me to,” said Bob. 

“What is the trouble, Bob?” inquired the little girl. 

“Nothing is the trouble. You had better be stepping back 
into the house or you will be catching a cold,” replied the 
boy. 

“Yes, there is, Bob; I know. Others may not, but I do. 
Here, come in here,” and she led him to the side door and 
entered another room. “Now, Bob, why were you passing 
without stopping after we had beckoned to you ?” 

“I was going to my room to get a copy of our baseball 
schedule to show to George Vance. I would have stepped 
in after I had delivered it to him.” 

“Would you, really, Bob?” asked the girl, watching him 
closely. 

“Yes, Mamie, I truly would have,” said the boy. 

“I believe you,” assured the girl. 

“You must,” answered Bob. 

“Jimmie has been telling tales out of school about you; 
are they true, Bob ?” asked Mamie. 

“If Jimmie has told them, they are true, for I have never 
known him to utter a falsehood,” replied our hero. 

“Why do you do such things ?” pleaded the maiden. 

“I don’t know, nor does anyone else. They just rush into 
my head, and, before I think, I have performed most fool- 
ishly,” answered the lad. 

“That one about the soft soap and the pole was a mean 
trick; don’t you think so?” 

“Now that it is over and I have had time to think, yes.” 

“You wouldn’t do it again, would you ?” 

“I may do worse before many moons.” 

“Don’t say that, please.’’ 

“It is true, though I am trying hard to do better.” 


172 


ROBERT KANE'S 


“If you say that you are trying to, you will, Bob. I know 
you will.” 

“I hope so.” 

“You must consider how your father and your dear Aunt 
Mary would feel, if you were to be sent home to them,” said 
she. 

“I do consider it, and that helps me a lot, when I don’t 
think of them too late,” replied he. 

“If you ever get into trouble, will you let me know?” 
asked Mamie. 

“As I always have, I will tell you,” assured Bob. 

“Will you promise me that you will stop playing those 
mean tricks and act more like the Robert you were during 
the wreck.” 

“I promise you that I will behave myself better in future. 
What I did at the wreck has been greatly exaggerated.” 

“What you did after the wreck has not.” 

“What is that, Mamie?” 

“Making your father give poor Jakie Steinberg a position 
in his store.” 

“I owe Jake more than that.” 

, “I know. Bob ; but it was manly of you.” 

“Forget it, please.” 

“Come into the other room, Bob; Julia and Jimmie will 
be wondering what has become of us.” 

“When they entered the parlor, they saw Julia sitting at 
the piano and Jimmie standing beside her, ready to raise his 
voice in harmony with the music she was about to begin. 

“Hello, jealous,” exclaimed Julia. 

“Hello, pinky,” flashed back Bob; but he, in a second, 
was at her side, and Jimmie turned to Mamie. 

“Jimmie has been telling us about your pranks at school, 
and, I think, you should be whipped for them.” 

“Well, why don’t you whip me?” 


SCHOOLDAYS 


173 


“I would for a nickel.” 

‘Til give you more than that, if you do.” 

She jumped quickly to her feet, and, with a tiny, clenched 
fist, she began to pound him in the middle of his back below 
the shoulders. He merely laughed at her and let her do it, 
until she grew tired and re-seated herself upon the piano 
stool. Then he extended his hand towards her with a dime 
resting on his finger-tips. She lightly slapped it to the floor 
and then began to play as he stooped to find it. 

When vacation time was over, the boys prepared to re- 
turn to college. They bade their friends and relatives good- 
bye, and then hurried to the railroad station. Jimmie ran 
into the coach ahead of Bob to secure the seats, while Bob 
purchased a couple of magazines. When he was about to 
step into the car, he felt a soft touch upon the sleeve of his 
coat, and, turning around, he was surprised to see little 
Mamie beside him. 

“Bob,” said the little girl, “I am worried. You will keep 
your promise?” 

“Mamie, have I ever broken one to you?” asked Bob. 

“No, you never have,” smiled the maiden. 

“And I never will,” said the lad. 


174 


ROBERT KANE’S 


CHAPTER XII. 

SNOWBALLING. 

T was now the first of February. 

As soon as Bob had returned to school, he had 
buckled down to study again with renewed zest and 
resolutions. The excitement of the Christmas va- 
cation clung to him for awhile, but the thought of the exam- 
inations just previous to the close of the first term had con- 
quered it and filled our hero with another interest. He fully 
realized that he had done well during the four months of 
classes, and he had determined to demonstrate in the semi- 
annual tests that he could persevere to the end. When he 
had finished the week, given over to the examinations, he 
felt that he had done so. To-day, he, with the other 
students, had been called to the study hall to learn the results 
of their efforts. Every boy sat at his desk with pad before 
him and pencil in his hand, ready to copy the record of their 
standings, which Father Doyle, after he had assumed his 
place upon the rostrum, and the other priests had found 
places about the room, read from a report which he carried 
* with him. 

When all was over, Bob remained, studying his record. 
He had done fairly well, but he did not feel entirely satisfied. 
He deemed that he could have done better in many of the 
subjects, even though there were many brighter boys in his 
classes. I might as well give you his averages : 

In Algebra, 87 per cent. ; and was twelfth in rank among 
his classmates. 



SCH00LDAY8 


175 


In Christian Doctrine, 90 per cent. ; and was twelfth in 
rank among his classmates. 

In English, 98 per cent. ; and was tied for first place with 
Jimmie Ryan. 

In History, 89 per cent. ; and was fifteenth in rank among 
his classmates. 

In Latin, 90 per cent. ; and was fifth in rank among his 
classmates. 

In Science, 86 per cent. ; and was tenth in rank among his 
classmates. 

In Drawing, 80 per cent. ; and was twentieth in rank 
among his classmates. 

In Elocution, 93 per cent. ; and was third in rank among 
his classmates. 

In French, 88 per cent.; and was seventh in rank among 
his classmates. 

In deportment, which took in all the students under the 
one head, he got 81, and was so far down the list in rank 
that he was too ashamed to record it in his own accounting. 

After the priests had left them, and recess had been 
declared, Bob folded the paper upon which he had been 
tabulating and put it away in his pocket. He then went to 
the yard. 

“Well, Jimmie,” said he, as he began to walk at his side 
around the snow-covered race track, “I didn’t top you in 
English, as I had hoped to.” 

“Not this term, but you may the next,” replied Jimmie. 
“But you should feel satisfied, for you tied me for the 
honors.” 

“I am not satisfied,” continued Bob; “I want to beat 
you.” 

“And I am anxious to beat you, Bob,” answered the little 
fellow. 


176 


ROBERT KANE'S 


“Then it should be a corking good fight,” exclaimed our 
hero. 

“Yes, but a fair and an honest one,” responded his friend. 

“It will be fair all right, I have no doubt of that,” assured 
Bob, “and may the best man win the prize at the end of the 
year.” 

“I was awful in deportment, wasn’t I?” he continued, 
after a short pause. 

“Yes, but I think they were a little hard on you,” an- 
swered little Jim. 

“No, they weren’t. Mamie was right when she said that 
some of the things that I have done were shameful. I 
deserve it, all right,” defended the manly boy. 

“You are not so bad, Bob,” consoled his friend. 

“Well, there are many who are much better,” responded 
Bob. 

“I thought that Percy Lee would surely get the highest 
mark in deportment, didn’t you?” asked Jimmie. 

“Not after his talk to Mr. Owl at the camp,” laughed Bob. 
“I fixed that, too, on him without meaning to do it. I always 
figured you for the high mark in deportment.” 

“No. Father Meehan caught me the night I made the 
French bed on you, and, the night that I stole the cocoanut 
cake up to the dormitory, I ran plump into the arms of 
Father Brennan,” smiled Jimmie. 

“Oh, well, you didn’t do bad at that. You still have a 
chance to catch Morrison during this term,” advised Bob. 

“You did well in elocution and in Latin, too. You did 
better than I in both subjects,” said Jimmie. 

Every year, in St. Patrick’s, the boys had a snowball 
fight. The fourth year and the first year men would ally 
together and try to defeat the second and the third year 
students in a strenuous battle. Both sides would build a 
fort upon the campus : each about a hundred and fifty feet 


SCHOOLDAYS 


177 


long and about three and a half feet high. They would con- 
struct them facing each other and about a hundred feet 
apart. Upon a signal from Father Duffy, who acted as 
referee, they would begin to fight. They could use all the 
strategy and trickery that their little brains could think of, 
and, when one side had all been taken prisoners, or had been 
driven by the others from their position, or had been forced 
to surrender, the victor would be declared. 

Therefore, since the examinations were over, and there 
remained nothing to lend stimulus to their time of play, 
the boys began to build their respective forts. Frank Grace, 
who commanded the side upon which our Bob was enrolled, 
and was a captain, exerted his ingenuity to out-engineer 
Commander Dooley, who led the forces that would oppose 
him. They made big blocks with the snow that they had 
carried from all parts of the fields in wheelbarrows and 
carts. They went even to the far corners of the athletic 
field for it. Many and willing hands and feet hurried here 
and there in their excitement and anticipations. Their work 
seemed naught but play to them, and they laughed and joked 
while performing it. But, in a few days, their work stood 
completed, and their defense ready for their actions. They 
then anxiously awaited the next snow storm, so that they 
would have the material with which they could make their 
ammunition. Father Duffy did not permit them to store any 
snowballs away, for, as he said, if the weather should grow 
cold, the balls would freeze to such hardness that they might 
hurt or injure the person who might be struck with them. 
The boys had to make them just before and during the fight. 

At the end of the long hall, beyond the dormitory, there 
was a long, narrow room, which was used for a lavatory. In 
a far corner of this room, there was a small bathroom par- 
titioned off with boards which did not reach to the ceiling by 
several feet. The boys were in the habit of bathing here, 


178 


ROBERT KANE’S 


occasionally, when they were slightly indisposed, or when 
they were not desirous of going to the showers and the 
plunge in the gymnasium. 

One night, before the day of the snowball fight had 
arrived, Bob walked into this lavatory to wash his hands 
before he jumped into his bed. He heard the splash of water 
behind the partition, as someone rolled around in the tub. 

“Who is bathing?” whispered Bob, as he turned to Eddie 
Kraft, who was also washing. 

“Murphy,” as lowly answered Eddie, and Bob’s face be- 
came expanded in a smile at some mischievous thought. 

He silently picked up one of the high stools and softly 
tip-toed to the partition. He placed the stool noiselessly 
upon the floor, climbed to its seat, and peeped over the 
beading. He saw the big lad standing beside the tub, in 
which he had just finished his plunge, while he wiped the 
calves of his massive legs. Bob, still grinning, stepped 
lightly back onto the floor and returned to the basin that he 
had just been using. After he had turned on the cold water 
faucet, to let the water run as cold as possible, he walked 
across the room and took down a large tin dipper that was 
hanging there. When he had filled the dipper to its brim, 
he again mounted the stool, where he had placed it, and 
took a second look over the partition. Murphy had just 
begun to button up the front of his big heavy woolen 
pajamas. Swish, over the wall went the water, and Bob 
alighted on the floor and started on a run for the dormitory. 
Like a flash he tumbled into the first cot that he came to and 
nestled himself at the side of Peter Mahoney. Peter, 
although surprised, said nothing, for he realized that some- 
thing of an extraordinary character had happened. Bob 
had no sooner covered up his head with the bed clothes 
than in rushed Murphy in his scant attire. 

“Who did that? The skunk, I’ll break his back,” cried 


SCHOOLDAYS 


179 


the enraged boy, although silence was the rule at bedtime, 
and no one answered him. He stood there for a minute, 
and then walked quickly down the aisle between the cots and 
back through another one. 

“Kane, the Gimp, I might have known. Where is he?” 
for he noticed that Bob was the only one missing from his 
place at his cot. Kraft had previously returned to his and 
was about to jump into it. Still there remained but silence. 

“I dare him to show himself,” yelled Murphy. Bob was 
about to do so at this remark, but the funny side of his 
actions still impressed him, and he only smiled under the 
covers that he was borrowing from Mahoney. 

Then Phelan raised himself in his bed. 

“What’s the matter with you, Murphy?” he said. 

“Not a thing,” replied big Clarence, “except that I cannot 
find Bob Kane.” 

“What do you want with him ?” asked the admonitor. 

“I’ll tell him as soon as I see him, Dan,” responded 
Murphy. 

“Well, you either go to your place at once and stop this 
noise or report to Father Doyle.” 

Clarence stood, for a second or two, as if undecided 
which of the two propositions to accept, and then walked 
quickly to his place. Bob hugged closely to the side of 
Mahoney, until long after the lights had been extinguished, 
and then started on tip-toes for his bed. But he had to 
pass by Clarence’s cot. He did his best to make it appear 
that he was unconcerned, for he bent his head slightly for- 
ward and he looked in another direction. But, in his keen 
sense of mischief, he felt that something was about to 
happen. He heard a slight creak of a bed spring, and then 
he ducked quickly to the floor on all fours. When he went 
down, a pillow tore madly through the air above his head 
and struck Father Cufif, squarely in the face, as he stood 


180 


ROBERT KANE’S 


watching the actions from the doorway. He had heard the 
racket, while he sat reading in his room across the hall, and 
had stepped over the corridor to investigate the cause of it. 
Bob hurried to his cot and began to undress. The priest 
kicked the pillow to one side and walked slowly into the 
dormitory to the foot of Murphy’s cot, while the surprised 
lad sat staring back his astonishment into the eyes of the 
good man, whom he could discern in the light of the moon 
which came shining through the windows. 

“I am sorry, fath — ” 

“Silence, sir,” said a stern voice. 

“But, father, I — ” 

“Silence,” interrupted the priest again. 

Murphy sank back in his pillows in utter despair. 

The priest then strolled leisurely over to where Bob 
was busy, and he stood there with a severe expression upon 
his countenance, for a second or two. Bob did not attempt 
to even return the good man’s glances, so he finally turned 
and walked away. 

The next morning, Murphy did not seem to notice Bpb, 
and, at recess, he refused to respond, when Bob had spoken 
kindly to him. Later in the day, the Director called 
each boy separately into his office and severely repri- 
manded both of them for their actions. Later on, and for 
the next few days, Murphy did not condescend to look at 
Bob at all and our hero soon became aware that the big 
fellow desired to cut off all further relations with him and 
he decided to comply with his wishes. 

The next Saturday morning, the boys awoke to find the 
ground covered with several inches of freshly-fallen snow. 
They gave vent to their happiness as soon as they had 
reached the yard. The day had become somewhat warm, 
and they knew that the snow would pack tightly into little 
round balls. They had taken their places; some behind 


SCHOOLDAYS 


181 


Grace, and others in the support of Dooley, and, at half- 
past one o’clock sharp, Father Duffy having given the signal, 
the fight had been begun. On the second, the shout of sev- 
eral hundred boyish voices rent the air, and little round 
white balls went flying across the space between the forts in 
either direction. The two commanders stood about fifty 
feet back of their strongholds and boldly braved all the 
straggling shots. They had around them several officials, 
who would soon begin to advise them, and several of the 
very small boys, who would act as messengers. For 
fifteen minutes or so, they only threw ball after ball at every 
projecting head that could be seen; each leader waiting 
patiently for the other to play his first card. Then Grace 
sent for Bob, who came running back to him. 

“Bob,” said Frank, “I am going to use you and your 
command as a roustabout. You don’t mind, do you?” 

“Anything to win, Frank,” proudly answered Bob. “I’ll 
do whatever you say and so will my men.” 

“Well, then, rush out and tease them a little. Go as close 
as you dare to their very walls and see if they are disposed 
to an open fight or will stick behind their fort.” 

“All right, Frank. May I offer another suggestion?” 

“Surely; what is it?” 

“Tell the men on the line to throw as seldom as possible 
without giving the scheme away, and set half of them to 
making balls so that we will have a supply on hand in case 
of a charge against us. The other side are storing away a 
good supply, I know it.” 

“Good idea; I’ll follow it. Use your head out there. 
Get agoing. Tell Houlihan to man your place when you 
have left it.” 

“Come on, boys,” said Bob, as soon as he had returned 
to his men ; “we will now begin to work. We will see what 
they are made of. Follow me, but do not go beyond me.” 


182 


ROBERT KANE'S 


A shout went up when they vaulted their own wall and 
slowly advanced across the space between the two forts. 
Balls came from all directions in front of them; peppered 
them; and fell around them; but they crept slowly on in 
the wake of their leader, firing back at the enemy all the 
time. Bob’s twenty men did not falter for a moment, for 
they were all as brave and bold as he. Within twenty feet 
of the enemy’s fort they stood, before Bob even thought of 
stopping, and, then, over the wall jumped about fifty of the 
Dooleyites. 

“Back, retreat,” shouted Captain Kane; “back, before 
they get you,” and he started with the others with the enemy 
dashing after them. But the clever Dooley, thinking that 
Grace had meant to accomplish this very thing, quickly 
ordered his men to return to him, but not until they had 
captured two of Bob’s best men. Bob at once reported to 
his commander and announced that he had found the foe 
quite willing to enter into an open fight, if they were the 
greater in number. 

“Well,” said Frank, “I am quite satisfied. I now have a 
scheme. Although it is more or less of a gamble, we may 
be able to put it through. There is a big chance that we may 
lose, but it will put an end to this affair one way or the other 
in very short order.” 

“What is it?” asked Bob. 

“We must divide ourselves into three sections; one under 
Murphy, one under Phelan, and, since you have done so 
well by me, I will assign the last to you. Yours will be the 
first move, and upon your achievements depends the suc- 
cess of the others. I want you to take half of the men that 
now stand behind our fort and lead them against Dooley’s 
position. Spread them out well, so that they will appear 
to be greater in number than they really are, but keep them, 
as much as possible, to the left there. Draw Dooley’s fire 


SCHOOLDAYS 


183 


against you, and excite his men as much as you can, so that 
their officers will find it difficult to control them. Then 
draw them out into the open between the two forts. Don’t 
let any of your men advance beyond their walls. You will 
probably all be taken prisoners, unless you meet with success 
in this action, and that will mean defeat for the rest of us, 
shortly after.” 

“I understand,” interrupted Bob. “Go on. It sounds 
fine fun, anyhow.” 

“Well, I’ll watch you closely and, when you have accom- 
plished this feat, I will send Murphy with his command 
towards their right. With all of their men after you, he 
will be able, no doubt, to circle around to the rear of their 
fort and take command of it and Dooley prisoner, if he 
remains there.” 

“I see,” said Bob, “and what will Phelan do?” 

“He will remain here with about twenty men ; not many 
in number, but all that we can spare him. Keep your eye 
on him and, if they attempt to charge him, before Murphy 
has won for us, you must rush all the aid you can to him.” 

“Frank, we’ll pull it through, if every man on our side 
understands what is to be done. Give us time to pass it 
along the line and then have us start as a unit, so that we 
may surprise our opponents.” 

A heavy bombardment was at- once begun by Grace’s 
forces against the Dooley stronghold, and messengers were 
sent to all the officers, who received their instructions for 
their part in the attempt to defeat the enemy. Then Bob’? 
loud voice was heard ringing through the air: 

“To it, men! Now to it!” 

Over the wall jumped more than a hundred warriors, 
shouting the battle cry of victory, and they charged the 
enemy’s thick, snow-made walls, with arms loaded with 
their ammunition. 


184 


ROBERT KANE’S 


“Let them waste them ; let them use their ammunition,” 
yelled the surprised Dooley, for he thought that all of 
Grace’s men were swooping down upon him, and did not 
know that Murphy and Phelan were crouching low behind 
their fort with nearly as many more men. 

“Then, waste them, if he wishes it,” cried Bob, “but 
waste them to our own advantage. Fire them hard, boys, 
since we are close, and fire them at their faces.” 

A volley of a hundred balls came flying fiercely at him. 
The enemy had heard this last mean remark and they wished 
to show their anger at it. 

“Get them mad,” he said, turning to his men. “Get them 
excited.” 

“There isn’t a man among you,” he continued, as he 
turned again to the enemy. “You are all grannies; none of 
you were ever made to fight,” and Dooley heard him. 

“Let them waste them, boys,” he shouted. 

“And waste them we will, you Irish Hebrew,” retorted 
our hero. “Bang them away, boys ; aim at the eyes.” 

“Over and at them,” shouted Dooley, and he himself 
rushed forward in his excitement. 

Over their wall they scrambled, and Bob’s men stepped 
slowly to the left to draw them on. At Bob they madly 
rushed, but he quickly ran to the rear of his men and out of 
their reach for the moment He was not afraid of capture, 
but, from his new position, he could watch all their 
manoeuvers and keep an eye on Phelan’s quarters. He did 
not wish to be caught while there might still be work for 
him to do. He saw Murphy and his men dash silently across 
to Dooley’s fort and distribute themselves behind it. He 
saw the happy face of Phelan, with a broad smile upon it, 
peeking over the wall, and he knew that his side had won 
the battle. He heard the sound of a shrill whistle, when 
Father Duffy blew it, and he shouted his glee with the 


SCHOOLDAYS 


185 


others, when the priest declared them victors. In his joy he 
bent to the ground and, scooping up another handful of 
snow, packed it into a little round ball. Then he let it fly 
in the direction that Dooley had stood. As he did so, the 
big form of Murphy stepped in front of him, and caught his 
snowball square in the eye. Bob could not help but smile, 
but he was about to apologize when he recollected that 
Murphy did not speak to him. Slowly he walked away, as 
if nothing unusual had happened, while Clarence dug at the 
snow in his face in an endeavor to see again. When Bob 
looked over his shoulder, a minute or so afterwards, he saw 
Murphy walking towards him in great long strides and a 
heavy frown playing upon his features. At first he deter- 
mined to stand against the big fellow, but then he thought 
that he might tease the boy even more by giving him a chase 
about the yard. When he started off on a trot, he saw 
Murphy break into a run. 

Around the handball alleys they dashed and out upon the 
race track, as fast as their legs could carry them. Murphy, 
the bigger boy, gained upon our hero, little by little. Soon 
he had come up behind him, so close, that he could nearly 
reach him, if he had but stretched his arms to do so. 
Suddenly, Bob flopped to the ground in front of his pursuer 
and landed on his hands and knees. 

•'‘Ugh,” grunted Murphy, who had stumbled over the 
crouched form of Bob and fallen to the snow beyond him. 
Up jumped Bob and he sprang away again and Clarence got 
to his feet and rushed after him. Bob began to breathe 
very hard, for the race had been a strenuous run, but he 
kept it up, when he smilingly thought of the tumble of the 
boy behind him. Finally, he could run no further ; he had 
become nearly exhausted. As he passed a high heap of 
snow, he threw himself on his back into it and Murphy, as 
completely tired, fell on top of him. They both lay there 


186 


ROBERT KANE’S 


quite still for a moment, while they recovered their wind, 
and then Bob began to wiggle under the form of Clarence, 
in an endeavor to regain his feet. 

“No, you don’t, ,J exclaimed Clarence. “I’m not through 
with you yet.” 

‘Well, what is it that you wish with me?” gasped Bob. 

“Why did you hit me?” asked Murphy. 

“I didn’t mean to, honestly. You stepped into it,” 
replied Bob. 

“Yes, I am looking for just such opportunities. I will 
probably try to stop a railroad train next, in your estima- 
tion,” snapped Clarence. 

“I tell you truly, I didn’t mean to hit you with that snow- 
ball,” exclaimed Bob. “You know well that I wouldn’t do 
that to you.” 

“Then, why did you run? I know that a fellow who has 
done all the dirty tricks that you have done on me, would 
not stop at anything that happened to come into his mean 
mind.” 

“I didn’t mean to hit you, Clarence.” 

“Well, say beg, and I’ll let you up,” said Murphy. 

“I shall never say that and I will not fight you either,” 
replied Bob. “Now go as far as you like.” 

“Oh, you won’t,” cried the angry boy. “Well, I might 
make you.” Then he began to throw snow into the poor 
lad’s face and to rub it all about his bare skin. He pushed 
it down his neck and slapped it in his hair. But Bob let 
him do it and did not murmur. 

“Now, are you satisfied?” asked our friend. 

“No,” roared Clarence. “Say beg and I shall be.” 

“I shall never say it, Clarence, since you ask it.” 

“Say it and I’ll let you up at once.” 

“No.” 

“Say it and we’ll call everything else quits.” 


SCHOOLDAYS 


187 


“Listen, Clarence. I tell you that I shall not say it. Not, 
if you promised me all the wealth in this great land of ours, 
and could give it to me; not, if you say that I should live 
forever, and I knew that I surely would do so; I will not 
say it, though your great weight upon my chest hurts me 
dreadfully, and you will sit there forever more.” 

Murphy looked down into Bob’s dark eyes and then 
relaxed his grip upon him. He rose to his feet and gazed 
around him. He picked up his hat and walked silently 
away, for he knew that Bob meant all that he had said. 


183 


ROBERT KANE’S 


CHAPTER XIII. 

SWIMMING. 

Y the first of May, Father Duffy had a very fair idea 
of what kind of a baseball team the college would 
have that season. He had a large assortment o i, 
boys to pick from, and he had become quite decided 
upon how he would line up those whom he should choose 
from among the many aspirants. It is needless to say that 
Bob had won the position for which he had tried, for he was, 
as has been said, and as our reader doubtless realizes, a 
born baseball player. He never had had any training or 
coaching to make him so efficient, but he took so well and 
easily to the game that he had become a ball player in less 
time than it would take most of us to become efficient in 
“Prisoner’s Base” or “Duck on the Rock.” He might never 
become an athlete, as far as other sports were concerned, 
but, in baseball, he could make anything of himself. Father 
Duffy had frequently remarked that he would develop into 
the best second baseman that St. Patrick’s had ever known. 

They had played one game with the village team, and had 
beaten it so badly that, after the fifth inning, the priest had 
placed so many substitutes in the field that he himself could 
hardly calculate the records that the scorer had handed to 
him. He had held Bob in the play throughout the game 
because he and the other priests enjoyed so much to watch 
him jump around the diamond. At bat he did as well as he 
did in the field. He would step up to the plate as fearlessly 



SCHOOLDAYS 


189 


and as confidently as a professional in the major league, and, 
although not necessarily a heavy hitter, he could place the 
ball safe oftener than any other man on the team. He never 
seemed to exert himself beyond his ordinary strength, and, 
although he chatted and mumbled continually to himself and 
those around him, he never lost si^ht of a chance to outwit 
an opponent. 

St. Patrick’s schedule for that year was as follows : 

April 30, Melville Village, at St. Patrick’s College 

May 7, Ashley High School, “ “ 

14, Everett High School, “ “ 

21, Crystal City High School, “ “ 

28, Unionville High School, “ 

June 4, Jameston High School, “ “ 

11, Cambridge High School, “ “ 

18, St. Thomas’ Academy, “ Chesterport 

On June 25th, if they won the privilege, they would try 
for the Interscholastic championship of the State with the 
team who had been declared the best in the eastern part of 
the State. Bob’s ambition seemed to be centered upon win- 
ning that privilege. He never missed a practice, and every 
day he would appear upon the diamond about the first of his 
team mates and would not leave it until he had been ordered 
to do so. 

After the game with Melville, Father Duffy cut down the 
varsity squad, and announced that, from that time on, he 
would give all his attention to the following players : 

Pitchers — O’Brien, Higgins, Dooley and Grace. 

# Catchers — Durkin and Connors. 

Infielders — Mallory, Kane, Evans, Purcell, Hughes and 
Sheehan. 

Outfielders — Burke, Bigham, Smith and McGreevy. 

Manager — Houlihan. 


190 


ROBERT KANE'S 


Every day these men appeared in their gray uniforms 
and spiked shoes upon the diamond, and worked with might 
and main to master the game of baseball. Every other after- 
noon they had a good team, made up of some of the other 
students, and they battled with them for as many innings 
as Father Duffy thought best to let them go. The next Sat- 
urday afternoon they played and defeated the Ashley High 
School team to the tune of six to nothing, and had the second 
game credited to their account. 

Now, all this time that Bob was giving to baseball did not 
interfere with his studies or his classes. He had determined, 
with all the power that was within him to win the English 
prize from little Jimmie Ryan. He considered that in this 
subject lay his only hope to make good the promise that he 
had made to his father. He bent over his books as soon as 
he would enter the study hall, and, in the class room, espe- 
cially in English, he would never miss a word uttered by 
Father Martin, the professor, or by any of his classmates in 
their recitations. He carefully checked every essay and 
paper before he’ would hand it in for correction. He fig- 
ured, from his monthly reports, that he held the lead on little 
Jimmie by more than half a point. But he realized that 
Jimmie was a good student, too, so he studied all the harder. 

While he continued to work hard both in the study hall 
and upon the baseball diamond, St. Patrick’s team played 
the Everett High School boys on May 14th, and defeated 
them eight to one. 

On the next Saturday afternoon, while Bob was walking 
out upon the diamond, prepared for the game with Crystal 
City High School, whom should he notice approaching him, 
with a smile spread all over his countenance and with out- 
stretched hand, but his old friend Jacob Steinberg. Jake 
was changed a lot since last we met him. His clothes were 
of the latest cut, and his patent leather shoes and colored 


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191 


gaiters were as clean as cloth and polish could make them. 
His soft hat was of a greenish shade and his necktie was of 
a bright red hue. His big, full face was even fuller, and 
was smooth and closely shaven. Bob was forced to smile 
at his appearance, but he tried hard not to let it seem offen- 
sive. 

“Hello, Bob. I dropped down to surprise you.” 

“And you have succeeded wonderfully well, Jake; but I 
am indeed glad to see you once again, and looking so fine, 
too.” 

“I look kind of prosperous, don’t you think?” 

“I should say you did. Have you made a bank or some- 
thing?” 

“No, my boy,” answered the business man, “but I have 
gone up another round in my ladder. As I go up, I must 
adapt my dress to my position. I am in the office now, 
taking care of all the bum accounts, after Oliver has tired of 
seeing them upon his pages. Your father sent. me down to 
Crystal City to see if I couldn’t induce one of our customers 
to settle up an account, which we have already carried too 
long. When I read in the paper that they were sending up a 
team to play you today, and saw your picture there before 
me on the sporting page, I thought that I would run up to see 
for myself if all they say about your great work is really 
true. Your father said that I need not return to the store 
until Monday morning.” 

“I’m glad, Jake. Come along and sit on the bench for 
a while. When the game starts, you will have to find a place 
in the grandstand, but I will see you directly after the game. 
I am sorry that I haven’t more time in which to entertain 
you.” 

“That’s all right. I came up to see you play and don’t 
expect to take up much of your time. I’ll find a seat all 
right.” 


192 


ROBERT KANE’S 


Jake saw the St. Patrick’s nine defeat the Crystal City 
boys by a score of four to two. A gpod game throughout 
the entire nine innings. 

Bob met Jake, as he had appointed, and, after he had 
introduced him to many of the Fathers and classmates, he 
asked him to come to the refectory with him for supper. 
Frank Grace very kindly gave up his seat beside Bob and 
permitted Jake to occupy it, while he found another one at 
the end of the table. The Jewish lad stood respectfully 
behind his chair, like the others, until grace had been pro- 
nounced, and “Deo Gratias” had been granted by Father 
Doyle in his honor, and then, in his noisy manner, he began 
to entertain those who sat near him. 

“What’s the pilot house doing over there in the rear of 
the ship, Bob ?” he asked, when they were seated. 

“That’s a pulpit, Jake, in which one of us stands, while we 
read, and the others eat, when we have to maintain silence.” 

“Oh, don’t they let you talk as much as you like, while 
you eat ?” 

“Sometimes we are not permitted to speak at all.” 

“That’s why they don’t take girls in here, I guess,” said 
Jake. 

“What do the priests wear those black skirts for?” con- 
tinued he. 

“It is the customary dress of a religious,” answered Bob. 

“It must be pretty hot for them in the summer time. Pass 
me some more steak, will you, Bob? They certainly feed 
you well.” 

Jake stayed with his friend until about half past eight, 
and then left him so that he might catch the nine-thirty train 
back to Silverton, where he remained over Sunday to visit 
his people. 

The next Saturday afternoon, the twenty-eighth of May, 


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193 


the Unionville High School boys came to Melville, and our 
friends defeated them, three to nothing. 

June now came rushing in with all its glory. Bob had 
continued to study all the time, and when he and Jimmie had 
compared notes after the first of the month, he discovered 
that he still led the little fellow by nearly a full point. 

The next Friday night, Mr. Kane dropped in on his son 
again. This time he had left Aunt Mary at home, and he 
had nothing to hinder his acceptance of Father Doyle’s kind 
invitation to come to the college and to stop among the 
priests, while he remained there. He watched the boys, 
with a feeling of great joy, while they defeated the lads 
from Jameston High School, on the next afternoon. He 
became just as noisy and boisterous as any one around him, 
where he sat in the grandstand, but the game was too one- 
sided to create any unusual interest within him. The score 
at the end of the first half of the ninth inning, when the 
players hurried back to the gymnasium to dress, stood 
twelve to one. Before he left that same evening, he and 
Bob took a stroll out upon the lawn. Bob said to him : 

“Dad, we have only two more games of baseball left on 
our schedule.” 

“So I understand, my son.” 

“And we are going to win both of them.” 

“How do you know ; never be too sure.” 

‘Well, Crystal City beat Cambridge very badly, and we 
beat Crystal City.” 

“That means nothing in baseball, my boy.” 

“And we have won from St. Thomas’ in baseball for the 
past five years. They are stronger than usual this year and 
expect to trim us. But, I am told, that we are stronger, too. 
We must win that game.” 

“Well, go on; what is it you wish?” 

“If we win both games, as I say we will, we will play for 


194 


ROBERT KANE’S 


the championship of the State against the eastern team that 
wins the championship. St. John’s, on which George is 
playing, has virtually won it. If we play them, will you 
come down to see the game?” 

“You bet I will, Bob.” 

“Will you bring Aunt Mary and Mamie Clair and Julia 
Bronson along, too ?” 

“Sure, son. I’ll make it a party.” 

“Then, dad, I’ve got to win.” 

“I don’t know whether or not your Aunt Mary will come. 
She swears that she will never go to a game of any descrip- 
tion with me again.” 

“She will, dad, if I am there, and, if Mamie and Julia 
are there to sit between the two of you.” 

True to Bob’s predictions, the St. Patrick’s boys won 
from Cambridge by the score of nine to three. There 
remained only the one game now between them and the 
honor which they had worked so hard to obtain. They were 
ready for St. Thomas. 

That evening, the boys who played upon the varsity, 
with Father Duffy and Father Sullivan, gathered together in 
a small room off of the gymnasium, and proceeded to nom- 
inate from those among them for the captaincy of the next 
year’s team. They also nominated from the student body 
for the management of that same team. Two names at 
least had to be given for each office. The players would 
then vote for the election of their captain, in the evening 
after the game with St. Thomas, and, on the following 
Monday afternoon, the student body of the college would 
declare which of the two chosen ones they preferred for 
manager. Some one had presented the names of Smith for 
captain and Farley for manager. Another among them 
then, either in jest or in earnest, rose to his feet and pro- 
posed the name of Kane to oppose Smith. Bob heard the 


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195 


compliment rendered to him, and quickly climbed to his 
feet. He then made the first speech that he had ever 
attempted in his young life : 

“Reverend Fathers arid fellow students of St. Patrick’s 
College : I cannot help but feel happiness in the honor that 
you may be about to tender me, and I wish to give expres- 
sion to it. But I decline to permit my name to be considered 
for any position you might feel disposed to hand me. In 
my opinion, the captain and the manager of our baseball 
team should be members of our fourth year classes. They 
have worked hard for us, during their three years’ stay with 
us, and we should demonstrate our appreciation to them by 
making this a feature of our principles. We will thus 
encourage others to exert themselves, as they have done, 
and we will thus reward them for their efforts. I will 
always do my best for you as long as I am able to hold my 
position upon the diamond, and I will never worry or falter 
because I am not your leader. Therefore, I refuse to allow 
myself to be even mentioned for any office at this time, and 
I assure you I will not accept it, if you should insist further 
upon it. In concluding, I would like to put before you the 
name of William Burke for captain and the name of 
Clarence Murphy for manager. I believe that they are both 
capable men and that they will work hard for the success 
of St. Patrick’s and to the advantage of all of us con- 
cerned.” 

He then sat down and his nominations were accepted. 

The next afternoon, which was Sunday, Bob and twelve 
or fifteen of the other students, started out for a walk 
through the country; among them, Clarence Murphy, 
although he and Bob were not yet on speaking terms, Percy 
Lee and little Jimmie Ryan. They took to the old wood 
road that led to the camp on the. lake. Bob felt in that 
mood which he generally experienced, when he ached for 


196 


ROBERT KANE’S 


something a little exciting, and he edged his way to little 
Jimmie’s side and said : 

“Jimmie, let us have some fun.” 

“How? What doing?” asked the little fellow. 

“Well, you fall for whatever I say, when I am talking to 
Percy. You can swim, can’t you ?” 

“Yes, I swim pretty good. I’ll help kid him.” 

Bob then passed to the other side of the group and 
walked along with them for some distance. Soon, however, 
he began the conversation. 

“Percy, do you swim?” he said. 

“Yes,” replied the gentlemanly boy. “I have taken 
lessons from very noted instructors.” 

“Indeed,” continued the mischievous boy. “Well, I’ll 
wager that little Jimmie there can beat you for a distance 
of a hundred paces.” 

“Perhaps he can,” responded the boy, whom our hero 
was trying to entice into trouble. 

“Well, you are not going to let him get away with that 
stuff without proving it, are you? He wouldn’t say that 
about me.” 

“Did he say he could beat me?” asked Percy. 

“Hear it for yourself,” said Bob, and turning to the boy 
with the sandy-colored hair, he continued: “Jimmie, can 
you beat Percy Lee in a swimming match?” 

“Sure I can, and easy, too,” replied the ally of our hero. 

“Maybe you can, Jimmie,” said Percy, “but I am willing 
to give you a try.” 

“All right, where shall we have it?” exclaimed Jimmie. 

“Off the dock at the camp,” cried Bob. “That’s a dandy 
place.” 

When they reached the camp, they entered the pavilion 
and little Jimmie and Percy undressed and were soon ready 
for the race. Bob and Jack O’Brien also prepared for the 


SCHOOLDAYS 


197 


water, for Jack had been appointed the judge of the finish 
out in the lake, and Bob to trail them as a referee. But the 
race failed to prove to be sufficient to Bob's anticipations. 
It did not become exciting enough. He had been so true to 
the promise he had made to his father and to little Mamie 
Clair, during his Christmas holidays, that he would strive 
to be better than he had been, that the monotony of his 
success seemed to create an uncontrollable feeling within 
him. Percy demonstrated that he certainly could swim, 
wherever he had acquired the art. Three times he grace- 
fully and easily reached the finish point in front of Jimmie, 
who was also a fairly good swimmer. Finally, all four boys 
in the water abandoned that sport and began to float around 
for pleasure. Then they climbed back upon the dock and 
sat among the others, ‘who had not taken advantage of the 
occasion. Suddenly Bob sprang up and dived headlong 
into the lake. As soon as he had disappeared from sight, 
he turned and swam under the dock, where he arose to 
the surface, clinging to one of the piles that supported the 
floor. When his frfends noticed that he did not rise within 
a reasonable time, they all rushed to the edge of the plat- 
form. Over plunged Percy and Jack and immediately came 
up to the surface. 

“Bluffer," cried Jack, as he spied Bob's grinning face 
glaring out at him. “Come out of there." 

After a while, when they were again seated upon the 
dock, Sam Crawford came skimming through the water and 
stopped in his light canoe about twenty-five feet out on the 
lake. 

“Let us all dive in and scare him," said Bob. 

Just as Sam was about to speak to the boys, four youth- 
ful forms sprang from the dock and sank deep out of sight 
in the water beneath it. Bob powerfully pulled himself 
forward and under Sam’s canoe without coming to the 


198 


ROBERT KANE’S 


surface. Then up he came with all his strength against the 
boat. The force of the blow tossed the canoe high in the air 
and Sam, fully dressed, was sent floundering into the water. 
Bob sank still deeper and turned again for the shore. When 
he finally did come up to breathe again, he saw Sam’s big 
form, puffing and kicking, and Percy’s smiling face floating 
quietly by the overturned boat. 

“You villain,” yelled Sam, when his mouth and throat 
would let him, “I’ll break your bones for that,” and he 
started at once for Percy. But this meek young man seemed 
to realize that Sam had attributed his accident to him, and 
did not propose to allow himself to be handled by the angry 
lad, until he had had time to explain his situation. Deep 
into the lake he, too, plunged and started for the shore. As 
soon as Sam could see his head again, he, too, began to pull 
with all his strength towards the dry land, while Bob 
treaded peacefully by, happy that he had at last started 
something that seemed worth while. Out upon the shore 
rushed Percy and down to the entrance of the dock. When 
he looked around over his shoulder, he saw Sam still after 
him, and he ran, as fast as his bare feet would permit him, 
along the plank walk towards the water again. When he 
reached the edge, he plunged back into the lake and began 
to swim far out towards its middle, Sam came chasing in 
his wake but Murphy stepped in front of him. 

“Cut that out, Sam,” said he. 

“Well, that was a dirty mean trick,” wailed Sam, 
drenched to the skin. 

“Yes, it was a mean trick, all right, but we’ll have no 
fighting here ; especially with that boy, this time,” continued 
Murphy. 

Sam looked at the big fellow for a minute or so and then 
walked away from him and sat down alone upon a winch 
near by. Things soon became quiet again, except Percy, 


SCHOOLDAYS 


199 


splashing in the lake, who seemed to prefer the water to 
their company on the dock. After a while, Bob rose to his 
feet to take his last plunge before drying himself to dress. 
When he dove head first into the water, he went straight 
down, instead of obliquely, and his head struck upon a rock 
that projected from the bottom. The blow knocked him, 
for the moment, almost unconscious. He, lost all power 
within himself. He could not move or raise himself. The 
water seemed to have the pressure of tons, as it pressed 
against his breast and filled his mouth and lungs. Slowly 
he felt himself going upward, upward, and his nostrils at 
last to take in the pure air, but he could not move a finger 
nor utter a word- to call to his companions. Would they 
see him ? 

“Look at the faker,” he heard little Jimmie say, but he 
could not warn him differently. Then he felt himself 
sinking again and that is all that he remembered. 

“He is not faking this time,” cried Murphy, as he rushed 
to the edge of the dock and bent towards the water. Sam 
came dashing up, too, and gazed below him. There was 
only one splash, and two forms passed through the surface 
of the lake. Those on the pier above thought that they 
would never rise again, from the time they deemed was 
passing. At last three heads appeared above the water; 
one Was Sam’s, one was Clarence’s, the other, with drooping 
lids and bulging cheeks, silently lying over on the shoulder 
and neck that was decorated with many freckles, was our 
hero’s. Both of the big fellows had their arms clasped 
safely around the lifeless form and neither seemed willing 
to relinquish it. Slowly they bore him to the shore and 
carried him to the pavilion and began to restore him to 
life again, while his frightened friends gathered sorrowfully 
about them. At last, he opened his large, dark eyes and 
rolled them in their sockets. 


200 


ROBERT KANE’S 


“I’m all right, Clarence, don’t mind me. I’ll be myself 
in a minute.” 

“Keep quiet, Bob,” said Clarence, “we’ll take good care 
of you.” 

“Sam,” whispered the suffering boy, “it was I who upset 
your boat.” 

“I don’t care, Bob, I had a good swim, didn’t I ?” 

“Clarence,” continued Bob, in a whisper, “I think I’ll 
beg.” 

“Don’t do it, Gimp,” answered he, close to our hero’s 
ear, “and we’ll call everything quits.” 



'j 


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201 


CHAPTER XIV. 

BASEBALL WITH ST. THOMAS. 

DO not deem it necessary to describe to you in 
detail the boys’ march from the college to the 
station in Melville, on the morning of Saturday, 
June 1 8th, since I have already depicted to you 
their parade when the St. Thomas’ boys came in force to 
Melville to play football at the college. Their actions and 
maneuvers took practically the same form, and the other 
attractions happened as they did on that day, excepting the 
presence of Mr. Kane’s merry surprise, when they marched 
through the village. 

The boys, who would represent them on the diamond, 
had gone to Chesterport the evening before, and had en- 
joyed a good night’s rest in the spacious rooms of the Nelson 
House. While their schoolmates and rooters had been gath- 
ering together and marching to the depot, they had been 
entertained by being taken on a tour of the city. 

Chesterport had about ten thousand inhabitants, most of 
whom worked in the shops, the mills, and the foundries, that 
had located upon the banks of the river, that wound its way, 
in many crooks and turns, as it passed on through the valley. 



202 


ROBERT KANE’S 


These worthy, hard-working men and women, in the sum- 
mer months, did not have to apply themselves to earning 
their daily bread by the sweat of their brows, on Saturday 
afternoons, which they generally gave over to amusement of 
some kind. They, too, therefore, waited in feverish expec- 
tations for the game with St. Patrick’s. Most of the stores 
intended to close, so that they, who were busy there, could 
also join in the sport. Arrangements had been made to have 
the game played upon the State League Park, for the 
Chesterport State League team happened to be on the road. 

When the boys had boarded the coaches and the special 
train had started on its way, their band began to play in 
lively strains, and they to shout and sing to the music. They 
seemed a happy lot. At last, at about two o’clock, they 
landed upon the station platform at their destination. 
Father Shean and Father Sullivan soon had them well under 
their control, and, behind a contingent of the St. Thomas’ 
boys, they began a noisy procession through the streets of 
Chesterport, directly to the scene of battle. As they passed, 
single file, through the stiled gate at the ball park, they 
passed nickel after nickel to the young men who stood by 
calling : 

. “Score card, score card ; buy a score card. Only a nickel. 
You can’t tell the players without a score card. Get a score 
card and follow the game. A nickel, gentlemen.” 

Every boy bought one. Then they continued along the 
narrow passageway to the stand, which had already filled 
nearly to its capacity. But the St. Thomas’ officials had 
taken good care to have a section in a fine location reserved 
for their visitors, and all our friends found seats and 
huddled together. They then opened up their score cards 
and began to study the line-up for the game. 


SCHOOLDAYS 


203 


St. Patrick's. 

St. Thomas'. 

Burke, l.f. 

Murray, c.f. 

Evans, s.s. 

Long, l.f. 

Smith, r.f. 

Regan, ss. 

Mallory, ib. 

Mullen, r.f. 

Kane, 2b. 

DuMont (Capt.), 3b. 

Bigham, c.f. 

Burns, ib. 

Purcell (Capt.), 3b. 

Emery, 2b. 

Connors, c. 

Lovelace, c. 

Durkin, c. 

Finnegan, c. 

Higgins, p. 

Denie, p. 

O’Brien, p. 

Wheatley, p. 

Grace, p. 

Connell, p. 

Dooley, p. 

Jones, sub. 

Hughes, sub. 

Smythe, sub. 

McGreevy, sub. 

Daly, manager. 

Sheehan, sub. 


Houlihan, manager. 



When our friends took their seats, their ball team was 
warming up. Grace, with bat in hand, at the side of Durkin, 
near home plate, was batting a ball around the diamond, 
and our infield were scooping it up and swiftly throwing it 
among themselves from corner to corner. Dooley was 
knocking flies to the outfield, and Connors stood at his side. 

“That’a boy. Go to it. Some stop. Shoot it, Purty, 
shoot it. You’ve got two hands there, Gimpy, use them both. 
Make it safe, Mally, old scout. We’re here, Evie. You got 
it, Gimp; that’s the way,” they shouted, and many other 
such expressions, as our boys continued to show great speed. 
Soon a bell rang and boys in red uniforms went trotting to 
the field and those in gray came walking towards their bench. 
A half dozen balls were thrown to them and they began to 
toss them between themselves in an effort to keep themselves 


204 


ROBERT KANE’S 


in proper condition to begin the fray. Bob stood nearest the 
grandstand, and, when he took a side glance up into it, he 
noticed Father Duffy beckoning to him. 

“Tell the boys not to get frightened at this crowd of the 
opponents’ rooters,” said the priest, when he had reached the 
lad’s side at the wall at the foot of the seats. 

“Father, I don’t believe that one of us will notice them.” 

“You had better warn them, though.” 

“Would you advise them that, before they show signs of 
stage fright ? See how easy they all are acting.” 

“Well, bear it well in mind, and be ready to put a stop to 
it,” said the priest, and he returned to his place. 

Soon the bell was rung again and two men in blue uni- 
forms walked out upon the field. One advanced slowly 
down the chalked line and stood, with hands behind his back, 
about four feet from first base. The other turned to the 
crowded stands, and, through a big brown megaphone, yelled 
loudly three times: once to the center, and once towards 
each end of the anxious assemblage : 

“Batteries for to-day: For St. Thomas’, Wheatley and 
Finnegan ; for St. Patrick’s, Higgins and Durkin.” 

Grace followed the first gentleman dressed in blue, and 
Dooley walked out to coach at third. The umpire at the 
plate pulled a brand new white ball from a pasteboard box, 
and tossed it down to Wheatley, who stood in the center of 
the diamond. Burke picked up his bat and stepped quickly 
up to the plate. The game was begun. 

“Now, Billie. The first one. In the river with it. Tear 
the hide off of it. Soak it, Billie. Lose it,” came ringing 
from the stands. 

Wheatley stood for a minute and gazed into the sneering 
face of Burke, as if he would study his man. Then he bent 
himself and threw a fast one straight at the head of Billie, 
who neatly ducked it, and the umpire cried: “Ball one.” 


SCHOOLDAYS 


205 


Again Wheatley stood watching Burke, and then sent the 
ball flying towards the plate. Whack, against Billie’s bat it 
struck, and he went dashing down the chalk line towards 
the little white bag. “Safe,” cried the umpire, as Murray 
threw the ball from the outfield. 

A corner of the grandstand was very noisy when Evans 
stepped to the plate, but Wheatley was smiling while he 
stood in his box. As he turned quickly towards the plate, he 
hurled the ball with terrific speed, and Evans placed his bat 
in front of it. The ball rolled slowly towards the box, and 
Burke and Evans ran between the bases. The pitcher neatly 
scooped it up and easily tossed the ball to Burns, who had 
his foot upon the bag. But poor Burns let the ball drop 
between his legs and it rolled on beyond him, and, while he 
was recovering it, Billie cantered on to third and Evans took 
second. Oh, the uproar that was going on around them. 
They had to speak in signals, for words of mouth could not 
be heard. 

“Strike,” yelled the umpire on Smith, who let the ball 
go by. 

“Strike,” again he shouted, but Smith had not moved. 

“Strike,” he roared, and Smith nearly fell to the ground 
in the swing he made to hit the ball. “Yer out !” 

“Strike,” again the umpire cried, and it was now St. 
Thomas’ turn to shout, so they began a racket. 

“Ball,” he yelled, when Harold let one go by. 

“Ball,” again he shouted, as the boy refused to be 
tempted. 

“Foul,” he roared, while the ball went soaring in the air, 
and DuMont ran pell mell towards the stands. High in the 
air sailed the ball, and, as it came down, it looked as if it 
might strike the boards that projected from the roof of the 
stand, but it missed them by an inch, and landed in the glove 


206 


ROBERT KANE’S 


on the third baseman’s hand, and he came dashing against 
the wall. 

“Yer out,” waved the umpire, and our Bob stepped to the 
plate. 

“Strike,” yelled the boss, as Bob let the ball go by. 

“Ball,” he cried, as our hero stepped back to save his 
knees. 

Whack came the sound from ball and bat, and three pairs 
of legs started on a race around the diamond. Murray and 
Long were after the ball, for it had gone beyond them. 
Burke and Evans had scored and Bob had perched himself 
upon second base before they had returned it to Wheatley. 

“Ball,” cried the umpire, as Bigham jumped high in the 
air. 

Crack, again came the sound from the bat, and Bob 
began to run. But the ball sailed squarely into the hands of 
Long, who did not have to move to catch it. 

“Yer out; side out,” yelled the man in blue. 

Our boys went to the field full of the confidence which 
their rally had given them. Higgins began tossing the ball 
to Mallory while Durkin donned his chin guards, belly pad 
and mask. Bob began his usual chatter, though little of it 
could be heard even by the players around him. 

“All together, now, boys,” he cried. “Go right after 
them from the start. Don’t miss any of them. Get the first 
man up. We’re all behind you, Higgy, old boy. Don’t 
forget the seven men behind you. Nobody walks. Don’t 
forget to give the boys in back of you a chance ; we’re all 
waiting for you, Hig. Take things easy. Go slow.” And 
then Murray stepped to the plate. Higgins eyed him coolly 
and then delivered the ball. 

“Strike,” yelled the umpire. 

“Ball,” he cried, upon the second delivery. 


SCHOOLDAYS 


207 


“Ball,” roared the boss, after the third ball lay in the 
hands of Durkin. 

“Strike,” shouted he, as Murray missed another. 

“Strike, batter’s out,” when Murray fanned the air. 

Long hit the first ball that Higgins pitched to him for a 
long fly. It looked as if it might land safely, as Smith and 
Bigham ran towards it, and the crowd rose to their feet in 
the stand. Just as it would have passed over his head, Big- 
ham leaped high in the air and stretched out his bare right 
hand into which the ball fell and stayed there. The boy 
modestly received the applause of every man that saw the 
pretty catch. . 

After a ball and a strike had been called upon him, Regan 
hit a fast liner straight into the hands of Mallory and the 
first inning was over and the score stood, St. Patrick’s two 
and St. Thomas’ nothing. 

Purcell hit a grounder to DuMont, who ran in for it and 
swiftly threw it into Burns’ big mit, before Purty could 
make the bag. 

Durkin did the very same thing with the same results. 

Higgins made three vicious swings with his bat at the 
first three balls thrown to him and fanned to the satisfaction 
of the majority of the throng in the grand stands. 

Again our boys ran slowly to the field and the St. Thomas 
boys huddled together on their bench. 

Mullen hit a high infield fly, just back of Higgins’ box, 
which our hero neatly handled, after he had run in for it. 

DuMont hit a stinging grounder that bounded on between 
Bob and Mallory, and he lightly touched the bag at first. 

Burns hit a fly to Burke, who quickly returned the ball to 
Evans, and held DuMont back on first. 

Emery sent the ball rolling slowly down to Purcell, who 
scooped it up in plenty of time to toss DuMont out to Bob, 
who had run over and was covering second. 


208 


ROBERT KANE’S 


The end of the second inning and the score stood St. 
Patrick’s two and St. Thomas’ nothing. 

Burke again stood at the plate with bat swinging from 
his shoulder. He was a fox at teasing pitchers. He danced 
and pranced within his box, anxious to round the circuit 
again. He coolly smiled back into the eyes of Wheatley, 
paying absolutely no attention at all to the advice and jibes 
that came ringing to his ears, whether or not they came 
from friendly fans or foes. “Ball four,” finally cried the 
umpire, and Billie went trotting down to first, midst the 
cheers of his happy schoolmates. 

Evans again jumped after the first ball pitched him and 
dashed his way towards the initial bag, as Wheatley grabbed 
up the ball. But Burns did not muff it this time and, 
although he had succeeded to advance Burke along another 
station, he had to seek shelter under the roof of his bench. 

Smith landed on a good one and sent it high enough over 
the head of DuMont to reach first base in safety, and Billie 
tore down to third. 

On the first ball pitched to Mallory, Smith dashed to- 
wards second and Burke made a motion, as if he would 
start for home. Like a flash, Finnegan threw the ball into 
the hands of Regan, who had run far in to receive it. Billie 
returned safely to third and Smith slid into second without 
an effort being made to touch him. 

Wheatley was getting nervous, for he struck big Mallory 
upon the hip with the very next ball he threw him, and he 
thus filled the bases. 

Bob stepped to the plate again, midst the screams of all 
who watched the game; the bases full and only one out; 
now for a clean-up. He had never been much of a waiter, 
so he struck at the third ball as it came sailing over the 
plate, and it went soaring through the air like a shot. But 
it stuck to the bare outstretched hand of Emery, who ran on 


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209 


with it and touched second before Smith could scramble 
back to that bag. He had made a double play unassisted, 
and had gotten Wheatley out of a very bad hole, and the 
noise grew louder than before. 

Finnegan hit a single out to Smith and smilingly straddled 
the first corner. 

Wheatley advanced Finnegan one station by sacrificing 
to Purcell, who succeeded in throwing the pitcher out to 
Mallory. 

Murray hit a long fly to Smith and Finnegan came 
pounding into third after the ball had been caught, long 
before our fielder had delivered it to Purcell. 

Long hit a nasty ball towards Evans’ territory, but the 
poor lad could not reach it, though he made a strenuous 
effort. Finnegan crossed the plate, and Long, thinking that 
our fielder had thrown home, tried to stretch his single still 
another bag. But our Bob was there, and touched him, as 
the boy came sliding in the dirt beneath him. 

End of the third inning and the score stood : St. Patrick’s 
two, St. Thomas’ one. 

Bigham tried to hit the ball, for he swung at it like a 
veteran, but his three swings only cut space in the air and 
the umpire cried, “Yer out.” 

Purcell waited for a couple to pass on into the mit of 
Finnegan, and then he met the ball on the nose. When 
Long had recovered it and had returned the ball to the 
diamond, Purty was straddling the bag on the third comer, 
with a grin upon his face, and his friends in the grand 
stand singing his praises in joyful voices. 

Durkin made about six fouls before he sent the ball 
soaring high in the air, just in front of the plate, to descend 
safely in the big hands of Finnegan, who had thrown off 
his mask and stepped forward towards his mate. 

Higgins again tried to make good at the plate but, as 


210 


ROBERT KANE’S 


before, he seemed too anxious. When he had fanned the 
air at the first three balls pitched to him, he violently threw 
his bat aside and walked out to his position. 

Regan hit the ball to Evans, who tossed it across the 
diamond, safely into the hands of Mallory. 

Mullen hit a high fly to Burke, who had to run hard and 
far before he finally caught it. 

DuMont again hit safely and rushed down to first, before 
Smith had time to return the ball to Mallory. 

Burns then hit safely to the very same place and, as 
DuMont crossed second, he did not hesitate, but kept up his 
speed towards third. Smith grabbed up the ball and sent it 
flying in the direction of Purcell, who got it and slapped it 
on to the fleet-footed youngster, as he came sliding into him. 
“Safe,” yelled the umpire. Our boys thought that Purty 
had touched him in plenty time to put the runner out, but 
they said nothing, though they felt it. When Higgins 
stepped into his box again, he looked around and saw Burns 
smiling at him as he stood on second base. 

Emery sent a Texas leaguer towards Burke, who tried 
hard to gef it, but his legs were not long enough, and it fell 
to the grass in front of him. DuMont scrambled home, 
while Burns took his place at third. 

Purcell then called to the umpire and asked for time. 
When he had walked over to Higgins, Purty said to him : 

“Hig, old boy, they are getting to you.” 

“Pm all right. That was an accident; IT1 strike the 
next man out.” 

“All right, try once more,” said Purty, for he did not care 
to send the boy to the bench during the last game that he 
might ever pitch for his college. 

He was as good as his word, for he then made Finnegan 
swing at three wide out curves, and the lad threw his bat 
upon the ground, 


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211 


The end of the fourth inning and the score stood, St. 
Patrick’s two, and St. Thomas’ two. 

When Purcell had returned to the bench, he ordered 
Dooley to warm up and this lad, with Connors, stepped out 
before the stand and began to work with a ball between 
them. The noise from the husky throats of the spectators 
made it absolutely impossible for them to hear a word they 
uttered, so they had to speak in signals. But they defiantly 
gazed back into the faces of the excited rooters and, as they 
did so, their smiles told many a story. 

Burke walked to the plate again and began his dance 
before Wheatley. But he only hit a fast one to Emery, who 
easily threw him out to Burns. 

Evans hit to DuMont, and he, too, had plenty of time to 
toss our boy out to Burns. 

Smith patiently waited and walked down the chalked 
line, when the fourth ball had been called for him. 

Mallory hit a fly between Murray and Long, and, as they 
both ran towards the ball, each suddenly stopped, and let it 
fall to the grass, and both base runners jumped upon their 
bags. 

Bob waited for two strikes to be called upon him, and he 
gave his teammates an opportunity to successfully accom- 
plish a double steal. Smith now stood upon third base, and 
Mallory straddled second. 

Bob swung at the next one and sent a high fly towards 
the outfield, which Murray easily captured. “Side out.” 

Wheatley hit a fast one between Purcell and Evans and 
landed safely on first base. 

Murray waited and was given a base on balls. 

Long hit a high infield fly, which Mallory caught in his 
big, soft mitt, and the runners held their bases. 

Regan hit a low, slow fly, which Bigham could not reach 


212 


ROBERT KANE’S 


before the ball had nestled upon the grass in front of him, 
and the bases were full again. 

Purcell again called for time, and beckoned for Dooley 
to come forward. 

“I’m sorry, Hig, old boy, but they are hitting you too 
hard. I’ll have to send you to the bench before it is too late. 
Let Dooley take your place. He will have his hands full.” 

Higgins let the ball fall to the ground and sadly walked 
towards the bench, and Dooley came trotting out to take up 
the burden that he had left him. But, oh, that noise ! That 
unkind crowd ! how they did howl in glee and happiness ! 
What did they care for poor, unfortunate Art? 

Dooley threw about five balls to the plate, and then the 
umpire yelled, “Play ball !” 

Then Dooley proceeded to pitch to Mullen, who hit a 
slow ball down to Bob. Our hero scooped up the bounding 
ball and looked about him just a second, and then tossed 
Mullen out to Mallory. He had seen that he had not the 
necessary time in which to throw Wheatley out at the plate 
and he had let that lad score without turning the play upon 
him. 

DuMont then struck out. 

The end of the fifth inning, and the score stood St. 
Patrick’s, two ; St. Thomas’, three. 

Bigham hit a short fly which Mullen caught. 

Purcell hit a hard ball to DuMont, who made a most diffi- 
cult stop and threw him out to Burns. 

Hughes now walked out to the plate, and the man in blue 
turned again to the stand, and the crowd became silent to 
listen to his announcement : 

“Hughes now batting in place of Durkin. Connors will 
catch for St. Patrick’s.” 

Poor Eddie only fanned the air with three vicious swings 
of his bat. “Side out.” 


SCHOOLDAYS 


213 


Burns struck out. 

Emery hit to Evans, who threw him out to Mallory. 

Finnegan then hit a high foul fly, which Connors caught 
after he had run almost back to the screen in the stand to 
get it. 

The end of the sixth inning, and the score stood St. 
Patrick’s two, and St. Thomas’ three. 

Dooley hit a long drive over Murray’s head, and landed 
happy and contented upon second base before that boy could 
recover it and return it to the infield. 

Burke worked poor Wheatley for another pass. 

Evans hit a terrific grounder directly into the hands of 
Regan, who had only time to toss it to DuMont to retire 
Dooley before he came dashing into third. Burke had 
reached second, and Evans had beaten DuMont’s throw to 
Burns. 

Smith hit a short fly to Long, who held our boys upon 
their bases by a quick return to Regan. 

Mallory hit a hard grounder to Regan, who tossed it 
easily to DuMont, as Burke tore into him on third base. 
The umpire called all safe, though it was a very close play. 

Bob stepped up to the plate, ’midst the din and roar of his 
schoolmates, with two out and the bases full again. He let 
two go by for a ball and a strike ; then he swung and met 
one, and Murray and Long began another chase after it. 
Burke crossed the plate, with Evans at his heels, and, shortly 
after them scored Mallory. Everyone thought that Bob 
could have made it, too, but O’Brien, who was coaching at 
third base, put his arms before our hero and stopped him 
safely there, while Long relayed the ball to Regan. Oh, the 
noise, the racket! Bob glanced up into the stand and his 
heart pounded within him because of the joy he had brought 
to his schoolmates. Even Percy Lee had forgotten his usual 
conservative manners. 


214 


ROBERT KANE’S 


“Sheehan now batting for Bigham,” yelled the umpire; 
“McGreevy will play center field,” but not a soul heard him, 
not even Finnegan, standing smilingly at his side. 

Sheehan hit a long fly to Mullen, who made a long run 
and captured the ball as it came down just inside the chalk 
line. “Side out.” 

“Jones now batting for Wheatley,” cried the umpire into 
the face of the roaring mob. “Denie will pitch for St. 
Thomas.” 

Jones hit safely to McGreevy, and the roar increased in 
volume. 

Murray hit to Evans, who threw the ball quickly to Bob, 
standing on second base, and who, in turn, tossed it across 
the diamond to Mallory before Murray could reach first 
base. 

Long flied to Burke. 

The end of the seventh inning, and the score stood St. 
Patrick’s five, and St. Thomas’ three. 

Purcell hit a ball down the first base line, and Burns 
grabbed it up and tagged him out, as he went racing by. 

Connors hit a pop-up fly, which Denie caught. 

Dooley struck out. 

Regan hit to Purcell, and was thrown out to Mallory. 

Mullen hit to Bob, who threw him out to Mallory. 

DuMont hit a fly to Smith, who caught it. 

The end of the eighth inning, and the score stood St. 
Patrick’s five, and St. Thomas’ three. 

Burke hit a slow one down to DuMont, who did not 
handle it quickly enough and our Billie reached first base. 

Evans bunted for the third time that day, and, although 
he safely reached first base, Denie had handled the ball with 
such speed that Billie was out at second. 

Smith hit to Regan, who threw to Emery in time to catch 
the fleetfooted Evans. Smith reached first, however, before 


SCHOOLDAYS 


215 


Emery had a chance to send the ball into the hands of Burns. 

Mallory drew a pass. 

Bob, for the third time that season, struck out. 

Burns hit a fly to Burke and was out. 

Emery hit a grounder to Evans and was thrown out to 
Mallory. 

Finnegan hit a high fly that went over foul territory far 
back of first base, and Mallory and Bob went dashing after 
it. “Kane, Gimp/’ yelled seven voices, but neither of the 
boys could hear them. On, on they dashed after the coveted 
ball. When they had nearly reached the spot to which it 
must fall, the two boys rushed together with such force that 
both of them fell to the ground. Mallory rolled and rolled 
towards the walls of the stand and then lay there for the 
moment. But not, so with our hero. He arose to his knees 
with his face turned to the sky, and stretched out his arms 
to their full length. Down, down came the ball, and it 
struck in his glove only to bounce in the air again. Forward 
he plunged himself and grabbed it again in his hands before 
it had reached the ground. As he fell, he turned his whole 
body quickly and landed on his back, holding the ball in his 
bare hand high above him. 

“Yer out,” yelled the umpire, and the game was over. 
St. Patrick’s had won by the score of five to three. 

Our boys dashed hurriedly to the club house, while the 
crowd came scrambling from the stands to the diamond, 
and there they were soon dancing around and about in their 
happiness. 

“You didn’t miss anything this day, did you Bob?” asked 
Father Duffy, when he. had joined them in the dressing- 
room. 

“Yes, Father,” answered the boy, and, for the time being 
the smile left his face, “I missed my daddy in the grand- 
stand.” 


216 


ROBERT KANE'S 


Just as he made this remark, the door was thrown roughly 
open, and a man in much disorder staggered into the room. 
His hat was gone and his hair was mussed and tangled. His 
tie was loosened and hanging from a badly torn collar. His 
clothes were dusty and slightly damaged. 

“Where is he? Where is the tramp; the loafer?” he 
shouted, as loudly as his husky voice would permit him. “I 
see him,” and he rushed at Bob and enfolded him in a very 
tight embrace. 

“Boy, you’re a trump. I arrived just in time to see the 
game start. I wanted to surprise you. Did you hear me 
calling to you?” 

“No, dad,” replied Bob ; “but I’m mighty glad you came.” 






SCHOOLDAYS 


217 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE PRIZE. 

HAT night, after the students had returned to the 
college, amidst the colored fire and other features 
of celebration which the people of Melville ten- 
dered them in honor of their victory, and, after the 
players had assembled around Father Duffy in the little 
room off of the gymnasium, Billie Burke was unanimously 
elected the captain of the St. Patrick’s baseball team for the 
following year. Smith himself, his only opponent, had voted 
for him. On the following Monday afternoon, the students 
cast their ballots for their choice of their manager, and 
Murphy was chosen by a very large majority. Both boys 
joyfully accepted their respective responsibilities. Negotia- 
tions were then begun by telephone and telegraph and it was 
decided that the St. Patrick’s and the St. John’s baseball 
teams should play for the interscholastic championship of 
the State at Silvertown upon the next Saturday afternoon. 
Houlihan and Purcell sent forward their lineups and every- 
thing was in readiness. 

I will now ask my readers to return with me to the 
Friday morning, just preceding the day that our boys jour- 
neyed over to Ghesterport, and to look with me, for a 
moment, into the classroom, where Father Martin sat before 
the first year students, as he listened to their recitations in 
English. 



218 


ROBERT KANE’S 


“Bob,” said the priest, and Bob labored slowly to his 
feet. “I will read to you this sentence,” and he read from 
a book which he held in his hand a very long and difficult 
sentence. “What kind of a sentence is that?” 

“A compound sentence, Father,” replied Bob. 

“Can you analyze it ?” 

“Yes, Father.” 

“Do so. Go to the blackboard and diagram it, so that we 
may all see how well you can do it.” 

Bob stepped quietly to the wall on the side of the room 
and, picking up a piece of chalk and a ruler, he went to 
work, as he was bidden, while the priest continued to quiz 
the others. When he had finished with his diagram he 
turned around and waited for Father Martin to again give 
him his attention. In a few minutes the priest glanced over 
and studied the work which our hero had ready for him. 

“Perfect,” he said. “Perfect; now go ahead and explain 
what you have done.” 

Bob, with the assistance of a long wooden pointer which 
he had taken in his hand, began at once to explain his work 
to the whole class. He finally finished and Father Martin 
said : 

“That is right, my boy ; now take your seat. Now does 
everyone else in this class understand this work? Jimmie, 
do you understand it?” 

“Perfectly, Father,” responded little Jimmie Ryan, from 
his seat in front of Bob. 

The next Sunday evening, before the boys had retired to 
their cots in the dormitory, Father Doyle entered the study 
hall with several typewritten sheets of paper in his hand 
and, mounting to his chair upon the rostrum, he said to 
them in part : 

“My dear young men, you have at last practically finished 
this year’s work in school. Classes are over and there now 


SCHOOLDAYS 


219 


remains nothing between you and your summer vacation 
but your final examinations. Your dear professors have 
done all that they can to prepare you for this week’s work, 
and your success is now entirely within your keeping. To- 
morrow we will begin to examine you and it depends upon 
whether or not you have properly used the time given you, 
during the past ten months, to prepare your studies, to decide 
the results for you. I have here in my hand a schedule, 
which I shall hang upon your bulletin here in the study 
hall, and in keeping with which we shall hold the exam- 
inations. I have so arranged them that all will be over 
by Thursday evening and I can announce to you the results 
on Friday morning and, thus, give all who care to, an 
opportunity to see the game at Silvertown on Saturday. 
You may go directly from the game to your respective homes 
without returning here, unless you be a member of the class 
about to graduate. The graduation exercises shall take 
place on Tuesday evening, June the twenty-eighth. I will 
also post for your information, a list of the prizes that will 
be given to those of you, who have won them, through their 
earnest and diligent application to their books in the study 
hall, and through the honest and faithful attention that they 
have rendered to their instructors in the class rooms. I ask 
you all to do your very best during the remaining few days, 
and I wish you all success. May God continue to bless 
you.” 

When their director had left the study hall, the boys 
began to crowd around the bulletin and to read the inter- 
esting information that he had hung there for them. Bob, 
with little Jimmie at his side, had come forward with the 
others. His attention, of course, centered upon the English 
class. First he saw that the examination in this subject 
would be held upon the next afternoon, and then he passed 
to the other end of the board, where the list, tabulating the 


220 


ROBERT KANE’S 


various prizes, had been hung. There he learned that a 
beautiful gold watch had been designated as the prize to be 
given to him, who might attain the highest general average 
in the first year English class. Little Jimmie gently reached 
out to him and touched his hand, which he squeezed, and 
Bob returned the pressure. 

That night, long after the lights had been extinguished 
in the dormitory, and when most of the boys had entered to 
the lands of slumber’s sweet dreams, little Jimmie tip-toed 
his way in his bare feet to the side of Bob’s cot. He looked 
sadly down upon his dear friend for a few seconds before 
he gently raised the covers and nestled in bed closely beside 
him. Jimmie softly placed his arm about our hero’s neck 
and, when he slightly pressed it towards his own breast, 
Bob opened his sleepy eyes and rolled to face the intruder. 

“What’s the matter here ?” said he aloud. 

“It is I, Bob, Jimmie Ryan,” lowly whispered the little 
fellow. 

“What’s up, Jimmie?” asked the sleepy one. 

“Nothing is up,” whispered Jimmie. “I wanted to be 
the first to congratulate you, Bob, that’s all, so I just stole 
over to do it.” 

“Congratulate me on what, you simpleton?” inquired 
Bob. 

“On winning the watch, Bob; on getting the prize in 
English.” 

“Well, I haven’t got it yet, have I?” asked our noble hero. 

“Yes, you surely have ; you are a point ahead of me, and 
I cannot catch you now,” said his little friend. 

“How do you know that you can’t? Suppose I should 
trip up on just one question to-morrow ; you would beat me 
out easily, wouldn’t you?” 

“But you won’t, Bob ; you could write a rhetoric.” 

“It would be a mighty poor one, Jimmie. But don’t give 


SCHOOLDAYS 


221 


up the ship. The game is never won, you know, until the 
last man is out. Make the fight worth while, anyhow.” 

“Oh, I will do my best all right. I won’t lie down. But 
I can’t catch you and I want to congratulate you on your 
success. Your father will be proud of you, won’t he?” 

“Jimmie, he will be the happiest man in the world. He 
won’t have to buy me the watch that he promised me, if I 
should bring home one of the prizes. Aunt Mary will shed 
tears of joy enough to soak her next week’s wash. But you 
seem to take the loss of it harder than I had thought you 
would, Jimmie.” 

“Oh, Bob, I wanted so to win it.” 

“Why, Jimmie, why were you set on the English prize?” 

“Not because it was the English prize, Bob, but it was 
the only subject in which I ever had a chance.” 

“Why was your heart set so much on winning one?” 

“I wanted to demonstrate to these good fathers how 
much I appreciate all that they have done for me.” 

“They will know how. well you have done without your 
winning a prize, Jimmie,” consoled Bob. 

“They probably will, yes, but there is my uncle, too. He 
took me in, when I had not a place to lay my lonesome head, 
and clothed and fed me, though he had hardly enough to 
care properly for his own. If I had won that prize, I would 
have given it to him and he would have treasured it more 
highly than he now does his old stone-covered farm.” 

“I am sorry, Jimmie; if I had understood, I might not 
have tried so hard to top you.” 

“Oh, Bob, don’t say that. You have won it fairly and 
squarely. I don’t envy you it. I am glad that it is you, 
who have won it. I would not want it, had I not won it, as 
you have.” 

“Don’t feel badly, Jimmie. Just work hard to the end. 
You can never tell what may happen. Keep on plugging.” 


222 


ROBERT KANE'S 


“I will, Bob, and will be your close second.” 

“Go to your cot, Jimmie, and try to sleep. To-morrow 
you may not mind it.” 

The next morning, Bob climbed the great wide stairway 
with the other boys, and proceeded down the long corridor 
He came to the door of the classroom, through which he had 
passed so often, and found his seat near the side and under 
a high, opened window. The priest, when all the boys had 
become quiet and orderly, walked slowly down the aisles, 
and placed a long white sheet of paper, with ten questions 
printed plainly upon it, upon the desk of each and every 
student, and then took his place upon the rostrum. He 
watched them for a moment or so, before he announced to 
them that they would be allowed two hours in which to 
answer the questions and that, as each one had finished, 
he might retire from the room. Then he told them to begin. 
In about an hour and a half later, Bob stepped quietly to the 
priest’s side and handed him his papers, and he passed on 
to the yard. He had finished his examination in Latin, and 
he would be free from that subject for the next two months 
at least. 

In the afternoon, Bob seated himself in the same chair, 
at the same desk, in the same classroom. Father Martin had 
passed through the aisles, just as his brother priest had 
done during the morning session, and had placed a list of 
ten questions before each and every student assembled 
there. Like the other professor, he had assumed his posi- 
tion upon the rostrum and had made the same announce- 
ments and the boys had bent to their work. When they had 
been busy for about an hour or so, the good man walked 
quietly down along the wall of the room and returned 
through the aisle to our hero’s side, and stood there looking 
over his shoulder. Bob did not seem to notice, for he con- 
tinued to scribble upon the paper before him. 


SCHOOLDAYS 


223 


“What are you doing, Robert?” asked the priest. 

“Nothing much, Father,” replied the boy. 

“Well,” continued Father Martin, “I was under the 
impression that this was an examination in English,” and 
he picked up the paper from Bob’s desk and held it before 
his eyes. There he discovered written all over it, the 
figures, ninety-eight, ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-five; 
sometimes in a column for addition; sometimes in the 
symbols of division. 

“Why all these mathematical problems?” asked the 
priest. 

“I was just thinking of something, Father,” replied Bob. 

“Well, I would advise you to give all your attention, at 
the present time, to the work before you. I am quite 
capable of calculating your final general average,” said the 
good man, as he returned the paper to Bob’s desk and pro- 
ceeded on to his rostrum. But he noticed that Bob’s 
thoughts still wandered from the questions that he should 
be answering, for while the boy sat moping in this peculiar 
mood, he rolled the unsharpened end of his pencil between 
his teeth or gazed absent-mindedly out of the window. 
Suddenly Bob bent forward and became very busy. There 
still remained fifteen minutes, allowed for the examination, 
when he advanced to the front of the room and handed in 
his papers. He said nothing, but hurried swiftly to the 
gymnasium and donned his baseball uniform. 

That night the boys built a bonfire, just as they always 
did on the last Monday night at St. Patrick’s at the end of 
the college year. They hurried here and there upon the 
campus and gathered all the wood and refuse that they could 
possibly find. Some even stole the barrels that the brothers 
had laid about the place. Then they rushed into the build- 
ings and scrambled out again, with their arms filled 
with fuel, with which they fed the fire. Old shoes, old hats, 


224 


ROBERT KANE’S 


old shirts and pants, old books and gloves and toys, every- 
thing with which they had finished and to which they did 
not wish to give space and to cart home with them. Their 
band, sitting in a semi-circle upon the veranda, egged them 
on in the strains of their Alma Mater’s hymn. Then the 
chords changed to softer tones and those of them who were 
about to graduate and to bid their last farewell to St. 
Patrick’s, the home that they had come to love, stepped 
forward and made a circle around the fire. They raised 
their voices to the sweet music and sang their song, “Fare- 
well, Dear Old St. Paddy, May we Ever be True to You.” 
Then they quietly fell back among the others and gave their 
places about the blaze to the third year men. The music 
changed again to a livelier air and the men now around the 
fire chanted their verses, “We are the Leaders Now.” 
Finally, on rushed all the other students and sang in 
response to the other two classes, “Good-bye, Dear Friends, 
Good-bye.” Then you would have thought that a lunatic 
asylum had broken its bonds, or that a tribe of savage 
Indians were preparing for the war-path. They ran about, 
they danced in glee, they tumbled one another upon the 
green. They yelled, they shouted, they screamed their joy 
in their merry sport. Only the strains of the “Star-Spangled 
Banner” brought them back to, their senses again, and they 
gave vent to their patriotic spirit by singing with the music. 
Lastly, they sang a hymn to St. Patrick, and ascended the 
steps to the oratory. 

The next morning, Bob, very early, met Jimmie in the 
corridor, leading from the study hall to the yard. The little 
fellow seemed to be in very high spirits. 

“You seem to be pleased about something, Jimmie,” said 
Bob. “What has happened that makes you so happy ?” 

“Bob, I am just in receipt of a letter from my uncle in 


SCHOOLDAYS 


225 


which he has given me permission to stop off at Silvertown 
to see the game.” 

“Fine,” replied Bob, “I knew that he would not object to 
that.” 

“But that is not the best news that I have received,” con- 
tinued the little fellow. 

“Well, what is the rest of it ; let’s hear it all,” remarked 
his friend. 

“He has told me to ask you to come home with me to 
spend a couple of weeks upon our farm. Will you do it, 
Bob?” 

“Sure, I will be glad to, if my daddy will let me.” 

“Your daddy will, for I myself shall ask him to.” 

That evening, Phelan stepped down to Bob’s desk and 
informed him that he was wanted to appear in the director’s 
office. Our hero felt amazed upon hearing this, for he 
could not imagine why the good priest should send for him. 
However, he at once proceeded to comply with the request 
and was soon in the presence of Father Doyle and Father 
Martin. 

“Sit down, Robert,” said Father Doyle, for the boy hesi- 
tated for a moment. “We have something to talk over with 
you .’ 4 

Bob found a chair just opposite the Director’s desk. 

“Robert,” continued the priest, “I am in receipt, from 
Father Martin here, of the most disgraceful report that has 
yet been handed in against you, and it would please me to 
hear what you might have to say concerning it.” 

“I can only say that I am sorry, Father, and that there 
must be some mistake, for I have done nothing to deserve 
it.” 

“Father tells me,” said the Director, “that you deliber- 
ately gave up in your examination in English, and thereby 
forfeited the prize to little Jimmie Ryan.” 


226 


ROBERT KANE’S 


“I do not admit it,” replied Bob ; but both the holy men 
noticed a tiny smile flit across the lips of the boy, when he 
received the knowledge that his little friend had beaten him 
out. 

“Then you may in a minute,” asserted the priest, and he 
nodded his head to his brother religious. 

“Robert,” began this good man, “before you entered the 
examination room on last Monday afternoon, you were fully 
aware that you had an advantage in English on Jimmie Ryan 
of nearly a full point, were you not?” 

“Yes, Father, I was,” answered Bob. 

“During the time given over to the examination, I discov- 
ered you figuring upon a piece of paper, which I picked up 
after you had left the room, and which I now have before 
me. On this paper you were figuring how many questions it 
might be necessary for you to miss, to permit Jimmie to take 
the lead from you, were you not?”' 

“Maybe so, Father.” 

“You were, Robert, were you not ?” 

“Yes, Father,” replied the anxious boy. 

“You figured that, if you failed to answer one question, 
this might be accomplished, did you not ?” 

“Yes, Father; was I right?” 

“You were. You had already answered nine of the ten 
questions given you, before the thought struck you, had you 
not?” 

“Only eight, Father. I answered one more afterwards.” 

“Well, you didn’t answer the tenth question, although 
you still had fifteen minutes of the time allowed you for the 
examination, when you handed me your papers. You delib- 
erately refused to answer the tenth question, did you not?” 

“Yes, Father.” 

“Why did you?” 


SCHOOLDAYS 


227 


“Perhaps I couldn’t, Father ; maybe I didn’t know the 
answer.” 

“But you did. On Friday, you answered it perfectly, and 
explained it as well to the whole class, after you had dia- 
grammed it upon the blackboard. It was the same question, 
Robert, and required the same answer. You knew it.” 

“Yes, I did, Father.” 

“Then, why did you refuse to answer it?” 

“I do not want to tell you, Father.”* 

“No,” interrupted Father Doyle, for a purpose, “because 
Jimmie Ryan imposed upon your good nature and persuaded 
you to do it.” 

“No, Father, not that,” cried Bob, quickly turning to- 
wards him. “Jimmie did not, nor would not, do such a 
thing. I did it,” continued the boy, anxious to clear his 
friend from all thought of suspicion, “because I don’t need 
the watch. I can get one, when I want it. But poor little 
Jimmie can not. I wanted him to demonstrate to you 
Fathers that he is worthy of the many chances and the 
opportunities that you are giving him. He has no father or 
mother, and a poor old uncle is caring for him. A poor old 
man who lives in the mountains and never has much 
pleasure. I wanted Jimmie to return to him some little hap- 
piness for all that he is doing for him. I wanted Jimmie to 
be happy, too, for he has had little of it so far in life. 
Please oh, please, Father, give him the watch, for I don’t 
want it,” and Bob threw himself down upon the priest’s 
desk, in the first flood of tears that they had ever seen 
escape his eyes. 

“Robert,” said Father Doyle, “I am proud of you ; indeed, 

I am. Don’t cry ; dry your eyes. Go to the study hall, and 
may the good God bless you, as you deserve to be blessed. 
You have a generous heart.” 


228 


ROBERT KANE’S 


“Father, don’t tell Jimmie how it happened, for he might 
not accept the watch.” 

When Bob had left him, the kind Director immediately 
sat himself at his desk, and wrote a very long letter, which 
he later addressed to a certain party in Wexford. On the 
following Thursday morning, he received a telegram in 
response to it. The telegram read : 

“Give the prize to Jimmie. I have already purchased a 
fine new watch for Bob. Peter Kane.” 


SCHOOLDAYS 


229 


CHAPTER XVI. 


THE CHAMPIONSHIP GAME. 

OB passed in all his studies. So did little Jimmie 
Ryan and all the other boys with whom we have 
become acquainted. When he had heard little 
Jimmie’s name loudly called on the next Friday 
morning, after all the students and priests had assembled in 
the study hall, Bob’s heart felt a pang of regret. He sadly 
watched the little fellow rise to his feet and walk slowly to 
his director’s side and modestly receive a beautiful gold 
watch, neatly resting in a small pasteboard box upon a bed 
of very pretty batting. Jimmie could hardly believe his 
ears, for he did not know how it had happened. However, 
he accepted it gracefully and, when he returned to his place, 
poor Bob’s sacrifice became fully consummated. Our hero 
then obtained full compensation, too, for the happiness that 
he experienced, as he gazed into his dear friend’s face, 
beaming its pleasure, created an unusual sensation of joy 
within him. 

True to his promise, Mr. Kane motored to Silvertown to 
witness the great game. He brought with him Aunt Mary, 
Mamie, Julia, and George Vance’s father. So that he might 
have more room for the return trip, he left his man at home, 



230 


ROBERT KANE’S 


and he himself sat in the front seat behind the steering 
wheel. Mr. Vance left them, when they had arrived in the 
big city, and sought his son in the Waverly House. Our 
friends drove a few blocks farther on to the Scofield Hotel, 
where the St. Patrick’s boys were stopping. Bob soon ran 
into the arms of his friends and they all were happy. When 
Mr. Kane had invited him to join them in a theater party 
that evening, the lad politely refused, saying that he in- 
tended to retire as early as usual that evening but that, after 
the following afternoon, he would most gladly accompany 
them anywhere. 

In the morning, the players rested lazily about the hotel 
and took a short walk just before their dinner. Then Bob 
excused himself from his friends and went with his team- 
mates to the club house at the ball park. They dressed and 
at once began to run about and to bat and catch a ball to 
prepare themselves for the game that meant so much to 
them. George walked across the field and approached Bob. 

“Hello, Bobby, old scout. Some crowd, eh! How are 
you ?” 

“Great, George. Never better. How are you?” 

“Fit to trim you to-day, all right.” 

“We’ll see. Are you going to pitch?” 

“I’m told so. I am ready, and in good shape.” 

“Have you got a score card?” 

“No, but here is the line up,” and George handed him a 
paper on which was written : 


SCHOOLDAYS 


231 


St. Patrick’s. 

St. John’s. 

Burke, l.f. 

Norville, c.f. 

Evans, ss. 

Henry, r.f. 

Smith, r.f. 

Moore, ss. 

Mallory, ib. 

Austin (Capt.), ib. 

Kane, 2b. 

Towle, l.f. 

Bigham, c.f. 

Lee, 3b. 

Purcell (Capt.), 3b. 

■ Aimsley, 2b. 

Durkin, c. 

Benjiman, c. 

Connors, c. 

Brown, c. 

Dooley, p. 

Vance, p. 

O’Brien, p. 

Burton, p. 

Higgins, p. 

Vail, p. 

Grace, p. 

Falk, p. 

Sheehan, sub. 

Krake, sub. 

Hughes, sub. 

Love, sub. 

McGreevy, sub. 

Williams, sub. 

Houhhan, manager 

Paterson, manager 


Purcell soon advanced to the plate and a coin was thrown 
into the air.. Austin won the toss and chose the last chance 
at bat. The two teams had warmed up and two men, dressed 
in blue uniforms, again appeared upon the field. Vance 
stood in the pitcher’s box and Burke danced near the plate. 
The umpire -turned to the stands and shouted to the crowd 
assembled there : 

“Batteries for to-day: For St. John’s, Vance and Brown; 
for St. Patrick’s, Grace and Durkin. Play ball.” 

Billie stepped up to the rubber slab and faced the crafty 
Vance, before whom he smiled and danced, as he tried to 
disconcert him. He made George work, too, before he 
finally swung at a ball and sent it along the line to Lee, who 
neatly scooped it up and threw it across the diamond to 
Austin, before Billie could reach the bag. “One out.” 


232 


ROBERT KANE’S 


Evans swung and missed one, and then waited for a 
couple of balls to pass him. He sent the next one skimming 
over the ground but Aimsley stopped it and easily tossed 
him out to Austin. “Two out.” 

Smith hit the first ball pitched him and it went flying 
straight into the hands of Norville. “Three out; side out.” 

Norville hit the very first ball that Grace threw to him 
and sent it soaring towards the sky. Bob and Evans started 
for it back of second base. “Kane, Kane,” yelled seven 
voices, and Evans turned towards second to which he ran 
to cover it. Bob ran on, as fast as his legs could carry him, 
and caught the ball in a most difficult manner. “One out.” 

Henry, after missing two of Frank’s offerings, caught a 
nice one on the end of his bat and started for first base. 
Bigham ran backwards about fifty feet and held it in his 
glove, when it came falling over his shoulder. “Two out.” 

Moore hit a grounder down to Purcell and w.as thrown 
out to Mallory. “Three out ; side out.” 

Score at end of the first inning: St. Patrick’s, nothing, 
and St. John’s, nothing. 

Mallory hit the ball down the first base line and Austin 
had to run in for it, but he picked it up in time to turn and 
throw Harold out to Vance, who had run over to cover the 
bag. “One out.” 

Bob hit a hot liner straight into the hands of George. It 
had such a sting to it that the lad dropped it to the ground 
but recovered it and threw' our hero out to Austin. “Two 
out.” 

Bob smiled at his friend, while he was returning to his 
bench and asked him how he liked it. George replied that 
it was an easy one but that he had tried to make it look hard 
because Mr. Kane was in the grand stand. 

Bigham hit a slow one down to Moore, who threw him 
out to Austin. “Three out ; side out.” 


SCHOOLDAYS 


233 


Austin hit a long fly which Burke went after and caught 
in an easy manner. “One out.” 

Towle sent a warm one directly towards second base. 
Evans reached 1 for it ; he touched it, but could not hold it. 
It bounced from his gloved hand into the hands of Bob, 
who also was after it, and our hero whipped it across the 
diamond into the mit of Mallory a foot before Towle could 
touch the bag. “Two out.” 

Lee hit to Purcell, who threw him out to Mallory. 
“Three out ; side out.” 

End of the second inning: Score, St. Patrick’s, nothing; 
St. John’s, nothing. 

Purcell hit to Lee, who booted the ball but recovered it 
in time to catch him before he could reach Austin’s corner. 
“One out.” 

Durkin sent one high in the air. Vance, Brown and Lee 
started a dash towards our boys’ bench. All those, who 
were sitting there, scattered in all directions, so that the 
players after the ball might have a fair chance to make the 
play. “Brown, Brown,” yelled Austin ; but Brown went 
falling over the water pail and tumbled to the ground. 
“Lee,” then shouted Austin; but Lee had gotten his feet 
entangled among the bats that had been lying in order 
before St. Patrick’s bench. George then plunged forward 
and grabbed the ball just in time to make the put out. “Two 
out.” 

Grace hit a long fly to Henry. “Three out ; side out.” 

Aimsley hit a wide one to Bob, who made a difficult stop 
with his bare hand and threw him out to Mallory. “One 
out.” 

Brown hit a nasty one towards Mallory, who had to jump 
high in the air and to stretch out his long arm to its full 
length before he had it safely concealed within his mit. 
“Two out.” 


234 


ROBERT KANE’S 


Vance hit to Evans and was thrown out to Mallory. 
“Three out ; side out.” 

Score at the end of the third inning: St. Patrick’s, noth- 
ing; St. John’s, nothing.” 

“Say,” said Mr. Kane, “this is some game, isn’t it, 
George?” This to the elder Vance, who was wiggling 
nervously in his seat. 

“I should say it was,” replied that gentleman. “Not a hit 
made yet. The crowd is charmed to silence.” 

“The boys are hitting the ball all right, but the men back 
of the pitchers are putting up a stone wall defence. There 
hasn’t been a base on balls nor a strike out. Your boy is a 
good pitcher.” 

“He is doing very nicely,” responded Mr. Vance. 

“But you wait awhile. My Bob will break that up yet. 
He nearly knocked your son’s fingers off, didn’t he, Mamie?” 

“He hit the ball very hard,” replied the little girl. 

“You just keep quiet, Peter,” said Aunt Mary. “I have 
been expecting you to start your disgraceful action at any 
minute, though you have been doing very nicely so far. 
Don’t get in any argument with him, Mr. Vance, for he gets 
foolish every time he goes to a ball game.” 

“I am going to root for George’s side,” said Julia, when 
the laughter had subsided. 

Burke swung at two wide out curves and then waited 
for three high balls to be called upon him. He met the next 
one with the end of his bat. High in the air it sailed over 
the heads of the infielders, and he rushed down to first. 
When he rounded that base and started towards second, 
he saw Norville leap into the air as he travelled with his 
back to the diamond, and stretch out his arms, and the ball 
fall between his hands. “One out.” For the first time that 
day, the crowd climbed to their feet. 


SCHOOLDAYS 


235 


Evans hit to Aimsley, who kicked the ball and it rolled 
beyond his reach. “Evie” was the first man to straddle the 
initial bag that day, though he got it on the only error of 
the game. 

While Smith stood at the plate, and let the first ball go 
by him, Evans started to steal second. Brown whipped the 
ball quickly across the diamond and, when Evans hit the 
ground and raised the dust around him, Moore struck him 
a heavy blow in the stomach. “Two out.” Evans jumped 
to his feet in a rage and raised his arms to strike the short- 
stop, but he quickly let it fall to his side again and remarked, 
while he turned towards his bench : 

“I’d rather lose the game, than win it in that manner.” 

Smith then struck out. “Three out ; side out.” The first 
strike out of the game. 

Norville then waited and Grace passed him down to first. 
The first base on balls that day. 

Frank then gave Henry a gift of first and Purcell came 
running over to him. 

“What’s the matter, Frank? Are you weakening?” 

“No, I’m all right. I slipped up for the moment. They 
haven’t got a hit off of me yet. Let me stay. I’ll quit before 
I let you lose.” 

He then struck Moore out. “One out.” 

Austin swung at three easy ones and he, too, sat down. 
“Two out.” 

Towle followed the example of his captain and beat the 
air three consecutive times. “Three out ; side out.” 

Score at the end of the fourth inning: St. Patrick’s, 
nothing; St. John’s, nothing. 

Dear readers, Frank’s hair now shows signs of grayness, 
but he will rise from his easy chair, and will throw his big 
fat leg across his desk, for he is retired from the army 
now, and his eyes will sparkle and he will tell you of that 


236 


ROBERT KANE'S 


great feat. He will laugh at the recollection of Purty’s 
kindly “call down” and assures you that he knew what he 
was doing all the time. He will then tell you how he fanned 
the three surest hitters of the St. John’s nine. 

Mallory hit a bounder to Aimsley and was thrown out 
to Austin. “One out.” 

Bob waited for a couple to pass on into the mit of 
Brown. Then he met one with the end of his bat and started 
on a run towards first. He knew that he had just made the 
first hit of the game. Dooley motioned him to continue on 
to second, for a roar had sprung from the several thousand 
throats in the stand and an uttered word could not have 
been heard. As he dashed on, he looked before him arid 
saw Towle and Norville chasing after the ball. When he 
had reached the second corner, he saw Towle picking it up, 
but he went speeding on. He noticed O’Brien with his 
hands stretched flat, as he extended them towards the bag, 
and down into the dirt our hero plunged, feet first into third 
base. “Safe,” yelled the umpire. He arose to his feet and 
brushed the dust from his clothes, while the screetching still 
continued. He looked up into the grand stand and sought 
his friends among the spectators. There he saw little 
Mamie, standing with the others, but bent slightly forward 
with a smile on her pretty face and her hands clasped 
tightly against her throbbing bosom. He perceived Julia, 
with her little finger tips in her ears, while she gazed frown- 
ingly into the eyes of Mr. Vance. He noted Mr. Vance 
smile pleasantly, as he stood looking straight in front of him. 
He beheld his father’s large mouth, stretched wide in a 
shout of joy. He noticed him throw his soft hat high in 
the air, and not even turn to see where it might land among 
the other cheering fans. He observed his Aunt Mary’s 
kind, sweet face, settled in an expression of amazement, 


SCHOOLDAYS 


237 


while she watched her dear brother, trying to anticipate 
what he might do next. 

Bigham hit a long fly to Henry. While the ball soared 
high in the air, Bob raced back to third and placed his foot 
upon the bag. “Batter out; two out,” yelled the umpire, 
and our hero came dashing down the line. He hit the dirt 
again about eight feet in front of the plate and slid under 
the arms of Brown, just before the catcher slapped the ball 
upon him. “Safe,” cried the man in blue, and the boys 
scrambled to their feet. He did not look into the stands, 
when he strolled to his bench, but he could discern his 
father's voice through the uproar: 

“You imp! You vampire! What did I tell you, Vance? 
That’s the kind of a boy to have, eh, Julia? What do you 
think of him, Mary?” 

“I can’t think of anything but your safety. Are there 
.any police around here ? Does a ball flying in the air and a 
little lad, running foolishly around four bases, turn your 
brain entirely? Are you still young yourself? For heaven’s 
sake, Peter, get your hat, wherever you have thrown it, and 
sit down.” 

Purcell hit safely to Henry but was thrown out by Brown 
to Moore, when he attempted to steal second base. “Three 
out; side out.” 

Lee swung at three wide ones. “Striker out; one out.” 

Aimsley hit a low fly over Bob’s head and landed safely 
on first base. 

Brown hit to Evans, who touched second, retiring Aims- 
ley, but did not get the ball to Mallory in time to‘ catch 
Brown. “Both runners safe,” cried the umpire, and an 
argument started. But the man in blue was supreme. He 
declared that Evie had not touched the bag and our boys had 
to let it go as he had decided. 


238 


ROBERT KANE’S 


Vance hit a low fly over the head of Purcell and the 
bases were filled again. 

Norville hit a slow ball to Bob, who dashed in and 
scooped it up. He was about to touch Vance and throw to 
Mallory, but George anticipated the play and dropped to 
the ground to delay our hero. Bob then quickly whipped 
the ball to Harold, who tagged the bag before Norville had 
reached it. “Two out.” Bob then stooped and touched 
George lightly on the back, thus making him believe that he, 
too, was out. When the lad had arisen to his feet and his 
coacher had yelled to him to hurry on to second, it was 
too late for him to do so. Mallory tossed the ball back to 
Bob and he shoved it into his old chum’s back before he 
had time to realize how he had been fooled. “Three out ; 
side out.” 

Score at the end of the fifth inning: St. Patrick’s, one; 
St. John’s, nothing. 

Durkin hit one of George’s very fast drops, but it only 
tipped the edge of his bat, and, as it struck the ground in 
front of the plate, it went rolling slowly down towards 
Vance. George ran in and scooped it up and threw it 
viciously at Austin, who had to reach far out with his long 
arm to catch it in his glove. The runner and the ball seemed 
to have reached the bag upon the same instant, but the man 
in blue roared, “One out.” 

Grace hit hard to Moore, who had to move fast towards 
second base to stop it, and he went tumbling to the ground. 
He arose in time to try for the play and threw it across 
the diamond to Austin. But the tall first baseman had to 
leave his station to catch it and Frank landed safely at first. 

Burke hit a liner over the head of Aimsley and the ball 
struck the ground before Henry could get to it. Billie 
reached first in safety and Frank raced past second to 
continue on to third. He had to hit the ground and raise 


SCHOOLDAY 8 ' 239 

the dust and sail feet first into Lee, for Henry, like a shot, 
whipped the ball to his third baseman. Lee grabbed it on 
the bounce and slapped it on to Grace, and then threw it 
swiftly to Aimsley, thus holding Burke back on first. “All 
safe,” yelled the umpire. 

Evans stood at the plate and tried hard to place his bat 
in front of one, but missed it. Burke had started for 
second as soon as Vance had begun his motion to pitch the 
ball. Brown arose to his feet and hurled the ball towards 
second and, at the same time, Frank began a race for home. 
Billie slowed up to coax the play to him, but Moore paid no 
attention to him. Back across the diamond he sent the ball 
straight into the hands of the big catcher, who, falling to 
his knees, pushed it against the legs of Frank as he came 
sliding into him. “Two out.” 

Evans then hit a fly, which Norville caught without much 
of an effort. “Three out ; side out.” 

Henry, the first man up, hit the very first ball pitched to 
him a heavy rap with the end of his bat, and it sailed far 
over the head of Burke. Before our Billie could finally 
scoop it up and return it safely into the hands of Evans, 
Henry had straddled the bag in the third corner. The stand 
had another chance to raise a racket. When Bob looked 
up towards his father’s party, he saw that gentleman 
leaning back with a dark expression upon his stern face. 
His hands were thrust deep into his pants pockets, and 
his long legs were stretched straight out before him. His 
head was still bare, for he had not yet recovered the hat 
that he had tossed from him in his first outburst of excite- 
ment. Little Julia was gently tapping the knee of Mr. Vance, 
who was now shouting as Mr. Kane had been only a short 
time before. * • 

Moore hit a slow ball down to Grace and Henry held his 
bag. Frank delayed the play a little too long and, in his 


240 


ROBERT KANE’S 


effort to catch the batter at first, he threw it high over 
Mallory’s head and beyond his reach, and Henry started for 
home. But our hero was again in evidence. He 'had run 
down to back up the first baseman. High into the air he 
jumped and caught the ball in his gloved Jiand. When he 
had landed back upon the ground, he threw it to Durkin, 
with such speed, that Henry did not even have to hit the 
dirt, before our catcher had touched him out. “One out.” 
Again there came a roar from the stand and Mr. Kane 
joined in it. 

When Grace had stepped into his box, he saw the fingers 
of Durkin playing idly in the dust before him. Like a 
flash, our twirler turned and threw the ball straight into 
the hands of Mallory, who touched the surprised Moore 
while he tried to scramble back to the bag. “Two out,” 
cried the umpire, and the stands became a bedlam, with Mr. 
Kane its champion. 

Austin then struck out. “Three out ; side out.” 

Score at the end of the sixth inning: St. Patrick’s, one; 
St. John’s, nothing. 

Then came the lucky seventh. 

Smith hit an easy one for Lee to handle and he was 
thrown out to Austin. “One out.” 

Mallory waited for a few balls to pass, as if he knew a 
good one was due him, and then he met one squarely. It 
was a long, low drive and fell between Henry and Towle. 
Towle picked it up, when it had stopped rolling, and re- 
turned the ball quickly to Aimsley. But Harold had reached 
second. 

Bob stepped to the plate- amidst the applause of the grand 
stand. 

“Now,” screamed his father, “you villain, bust up this 
game right here. You can do it. Oh, you rogue, hit that 
ball into ‘ those windows over there ; I’ll settle for all the 


SCHOOLDAYS 


241 


damages. Ten dollars for each bag you cover. You imp; 
you tramp ; if you fail me, I’ll scalp you.” 

“This is where the trouble starts,” quietly whispered 
Aunt Mary to little Mamie at her side. “You had better 
remove your pretty hat before he begins to throw those long 
arms of his around. Watch him and notice how crazy a 
real sane man can act. There; I knew it; prepare to 
defend yourself.” 

As she made this last remark, Bob was dashing down to 
first and Mallory had started to run towards third. Our 
hero had hit a liner just over the head of Lee but too high 
for him to reach it, though he leaped into the air as far as 
his strength would permit him. Norville was after the 
ball. When the outfielder had at last scooped it up and had 
returned it to the infield, Bob was stationed upon the bag 
that Harold had just left and Mallory had crossed the plate 
and was strolling gleefully towards his bench. 

Bigham hit a grounder between Aimsley and Austin and 
Dooley held Bob on third. ' 

George then tightened and, after forcing Purcell to swing 
at three of his dazzling curves, he compelled Durkin to hit 
an infield fly which he himself captured. “Three out ; side 
out.” 

Towle hit a high foul fly which Mallory caught after he 
had stepped just over the chalk line. “One out.” 

Lee hit to Evans and was tossed out to Mallory. “Two 
out.” 

Aimsley hit to Evans and was thrown out to Mallory. 
“Three out ; side out.” 

Score at the end of the seventh inning: St. Patrick’s, 
two; St. John’s, nothing. 

Grace was given his base on balls. 

Burke hit to Aimsley, who threw the ball to Moore at 


242 


ROBERT KANE’S 


second, and he, in turn, tossed it to Austin in time to accom- 
plish a very fast double play. “Two out.” 

Evans hit to Austin, who threw him out to Aimsley, who 
had run down to first to cover that bag. “Three out ; side 
out.” 

Brown hit to Grace, who threw him out to Mallory. 
“One out.” 

Vance hit to Bob and was tossed out to Mallory. “Two 
out.” 

Norville hit a long, hard fly, which Bigham caught after 
he had run nearly into Smith’s territory to get it. “Three 
out ; side out.” 

Score at the end of the eighth inning : St. Patrick’s, two ; 
St. John’s, nothing. 

Smith hit a fly which Towle gracefully caught. “One 
out.” 

Mallory hit a bounder to Moore and was thrown out to 
Austin. “Two out.” 

Bob, amidst the cheers and applause of every spectator, 
hit an easy fly, which Lee succeeded in holding, after he had 
run back several feet to get under it. “Three out; side 
out.” 

Henry was given his base on balls. 

Moore hit a hot grounder between Purcell and Evans 
and advanced Henry to second, and he himself took first. 

Austin hit a hot one to Purcell, who reached out to grab 
it. But he could not hold it, and was not credited with an 
error by either scorer. When Evans had picked up the 
ball, it was too late to try for a play and the bases were 
filled again and nobody was out. 

Purcell then motioned for Higgins to come out, and had 
to walk over to the box to speak to Frank, for he could not 
possibly be heard. 

“Frank, you’re in, aren’t you?” 


SCHOOLDAYS 


243 


“I’m tired, all right. They are getting to me.” 

“Let Higgy take your place.” 

“I think it best.” 

“Don’t feel bad, Frank, for you have pitched a wonderful 
game and the strain has been tremendous.” 

“It’s all right. I, too, want to see St. Patrick’s win.” 

Frank ran easily to his bench and picked up his coat and 
sweater. He did not mind the cruel censure of the throng, 
for he knew that he had done well and he realized that the 
most of them, who understand the game better, appreciated 
his fine efforts. 

Higgins pitched only four balls. 

“Krake now batting for Towle,” cried the umpire, in the 
face of the maddened crowd. Austin had hoped for a rally 
and had decided to try fresh blood in an endeavor to turn 
what had seemed like defeat into a sudden victory. 

Swish, went the ball from Higgins’ hand, and Krake 
swung wildly at it in his eagerness. “Strike,” called the 
umpire. 

Swish, again swung the heavyweight’s bat, at a wide 
outcurve from Higgins’ hand. “Strike two,” yelled the 
man in blue. 

Krake stood stiff as an iron rod, as the next one came 
thumping into the mit on Durkin’s big left hand. “Striker 
out ; one out,” shouted the boss of the game. 

“Love now batting for Lee,” roared the umpire, after he 
turned towards the stands. 

Whack, came the sound, as the bat hit Higgins’ fourth 
ball and sent it flying about six feet directly over second 
base. A boyish figure, dressed in a uniform of gray, 
jumped high in the air, as he went dashing towards it. Up 
he threw his bare right hand and the ball stuck within it. 
Down came the form of the little lad and fell in a heap upon 


244 


ROBERT KANE’S 


second base before Moore could scramble back to it. A 
double play, and unassisted, and the game was over. St. 
Patrick’s had won the interscholastic championship of the 
State by the score of two to nothing. 





SCHOOLDAYS 


245 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THREE MORE YEARS AT ST. PATRICK’S. 

OB returned for three more years to St. Patrick’s 
College. Since, as we have seen, he had learned 
how to study and to apply himself to his work, he 
did not have to exert himself now, as he did during 
the period of which we have just narrated. However, he 
continued to make excellent use of the opportunities, that 
were given him and, during his course, he was declared a 
good student. His experiences during the time, over which 
we will skip by giving you merely a synopsis, came to him 
in practically as frequent and exciting a manner, but they 
happened somewhat similarly to those already related and 
I would not be demonstrating to you any new character- 
istic of our hero’s life or nature, by writing them for you. 

After the game described in the last chapter, Bob went 
with little Jimmie Ryan to visit at his uncle’s farm. He 
found things there just as his friend had told him that they 
were. The poor old uncle, not a very talkative man, had 
about all he could do to keep the flesh and bones together 
on his pleasant little wife and his two fully grown daugh- 
ters. They would all rise from their beds very early in the 
morning, before the sun had appeared over the tops of the 
surrounding mountains, and they worked, worked all day 
long. They never seemed to be without something of the 
most vital importance to do. They then retired to sleep 




246 


ROBERT KANE’S 


soon after twilight had changed into darkness. This they 
did three hundred and sixty-five days each year. The only 
thing that ever occurred to break this monotony happened 
each Sunday morning, when old Mr. Ryan would hitch up 
two of the three heavy horses he possessed, and drive his 
family to the little chapel to Sunday mass about three miles 
away. Jimmie told Bob that, once each year, the old man 
generally drove them all over to Portsmouth to see the 
County Fair. After the first day, the two boys awoke with 
the others and they, too, soon found great pleasure in aid- 
ing them to perform their duties. When the two weeks had 
passed quickly by, Bob returned to his home. 

When Bob had returned to college the next year, he had 
a great sorrow in store for him. He then learned that his 
dear friend, Father Duffy, whom he had come to love, had 
been sent to other fields of labor. Although the excellent 
man, Father Joyce, who had been detailed to take his old 
instructor’s place, seemed just as fine and kind a man, he 
was not Father Duffy, and in Bob’s heart there remained 
this pang of regret. Even to this day, our hero will speak 
with the greatest respect and reverence concerning Father 
Joyce, but, when referring to Father Duffy, one would 
imagine, from the tones of his voice, that he were talking 
of his brother. 

That same day Father Doyle led a young lad up to Bob, 
just as he had led Bob up to Frank Grace on the ball field 
only the year before, and he introduced our hero to Frank 
Keenan and left him in his care. Frank, who is to play an 
important part in Bob’s later life, and Bob became very 
much attached. • During the baseball season that year, the 
newcomer worked hard to dislodge our friend from his 
position upon the team, but he finally had to content himself 
in the corner that Purcell would fill no more. 


SCHOOLDAYS 


247 


That fall the St. Thomas’ boys again came to Melville 
and our boys, behind Captain Murphy, sent them home after 
an overwhelming defeat of twenty-eight to nothing. Farley 
had come out and had made Grace’s old position, and Kane, 
Burke and Farley made a combination in the back field 
whose names had been heralded about that vicinity. 

Before the Christmas holidays had arrived, Bob had re- 
ceived ’letters from all his friends who had graduated the 
summer before, and he now knew how they were all situ- 
ated. Frank Grace had tried and passed, first on the list, 
for an appointment to West Point and expected, some day, 
to bleed for his country, if needs be, and to demonstrate to 
the world that he had acquired his fundamental knowledge 
of use to him on the field of battle, while commanding his 
snow-made fort at St. Patrick’s. Art. Higgins had entered 
into the enterprise that his father had made so well known 
and hoped to become master of the plumbing supply busi- 
ness. Dooley and Phelan had entered a seminary in one of 
our mid-southern States and had begun to prepare them- 
selves that they might, perhaps, ascend the same altar steps 
that they had so often climbed as boys in their Alma Mater, 
and say mass before the young boys, who might come to St. 
Patrick's long after our friends were men in the world of 
strife. Purcell had gone east. He had entered one of our 
great universities, in the hope that he would there become, 
some day, sufficiently efficient to surprise his dear old school- 
mates with engineering feats of extraordinary magnitude. 
He also wrote that he anticipated that he might be chosen 
to play his old position upon his varsity baseball team. 

That winter, Father Brennan died. It was the first touch 
of real sorrow that our hero had ever felt. He was too 
young to realize his loss, when his dear mother had been 
carried away from him for all time, and death had not struck 
close to him since. Because his was the first mass that Bob 


248 


ROBERT KANE’S 


had ever served, he was appointed to assist at the requiem 
mass at the good priest’s funeral, and he was permitted to 
accompany the few mourners to the little grave in their 
cemetery far back in a clearing in the woods. He missed 
the pious old man, too, because Father Brennan had been 
his confessor and spiritual adviser. 

That summer the boys worked well for Billie Burke upon 
the baseball diamond. They won all their games until they 
met St. Thomas’, and lost to them only because of an error 
by Smith, which let in two runs. They, therefore, did not 
have an opportunity to play for the interscholastic cham- 
pionship, much to the disgust and dissatisfaction of Mr. 
Kane, but to the happiness of Aunt Mary. But St. John’s 
had been beaten, too, so the final results are not of any 
real interest, to us. 

Neither Bob nor Jimmie succeeded in landing a prize. 
Although they both worked hard and did well in all their 
studies, neither showed any remarkable results except in 
English again, but Percy Lee, in a flying finish at the end 
of the second term, won out and carried home with him a 
beautiful set of Shakespearian Works, 

Upon returning to St. Patrick’s to begin his third year. 
Bob met Fred Moran. In after years, and as we follow 
through the fife of Robert Kane, we will become better ac- 
quainted with Fred and learn to love him as our hero does. 
Fred never knew what trouble meant and his big, massive 
form, which was even greater than Fatty Hogan’s, would 
always shake in its merriment after a good joke, even though 
death itself were staring him in the face. Many and many 
a prank our Bob has played on him but never yet has he 
succeeded to cause a frown to darken the dear boy’s fea- 
tures. Bob nicknamed him Buster, as Father Doyle led 
him out to introduce him to his future schoolmates, and 
he has been called Buster ever since. The greatest pleasure 


SCHOOLDAYS 


249 


that he afforded our friends, he would give them at the table 
in the refectory. He could eat more than any other two of 
his schoolmates, and they enjoyed seeing him do it. 

The faces that he missed were those of Father Sullivan, 
Father Martin and his old schoolmates, Clarence Murphy 
and Billie Burke. The two priests were in the west on mis- 
sionary work and would probably not return to St. Patrick’s. 
Father Flynn and Father Brady were sent to take their 
places. Father Shean was detained only long enough to 
preach to the boys while they were on their retreat, and 
then he, too, was sent to the west to aid his brother priests 
in their work, and a Father Boyle was appointed to St. 
Patrick’s. Murphy was studying law in Judge Perkin’s 
office and intended to finish in Silvertown University, where 
his freckled neck later became as well known and appre- 
ciated upon the football gridiron as it had been in our col- 
lege. Burke had followed his dear old friends and school- 
mates, Dooley and Phelan, in the hope that he might die 
in the services of his Maker. Farley was studying medicine. 

That fall, their football record was woeful to behold. 
Bob tried his best to do the work of all three men back of 
the line but the loss of Burke and Farley proved a disaster 
to them. The new men could not be made efficient in the 
few short months they had to learn the fine points of the 
game. Then, too, the absence of the powerful form of 
Murphy from the line demonstrated, through their weak- 
ness, the force and the value that he had been to them. 

That winter, Bob did not feel so well as he usually did, 
and, having to spend much of his time in the infirmary, he 
fell behind in his studies. When spring came on, he fully 
recovered himself, however, and he did his best by studying 
hard to regain his position as one of the leaders among his 
classes. His Aunty Mary wished him to return with her 


250 


ROBERT KANE’S 


after one of her visits with Mr. Kane, but he kindly refused 
to do so. He diligently applied the remedies which she had 
recommended to him in the presence of the capable Brother 
Albert. The good woman did not mean to offend the kind 
man but she worried for the boy she loved. 

That same winter little Jimmie Ryan broke his arm and 
he, too, spent much time in the infirmary. It happened 
during cross country. The little fellow had been stationed 
in the tenth relay and, when he had received the note from 
his team mate, he went dashing through the wood towards 
the Hall. He fell just about where Hogan had fallen on 
the day that Bob had persuaded the heavy boy to take up 
the chase, and his whole force dropped upon the arm which 
he had extended in an effort to save himself. The little 
frail bone cracked just above the elbow. 

In consequence of the ailments of our two friends, they 
both missed again their chances to capture a prize and the 
smart Percy Gee took another volume of books home 
with him. 

That year, in baseball, the St. Patrick’s boys were most 
successful. They defeated all of their opponents, including 
their neighbor, St. Thomas’. St. John’s won, too, so they had 
another chance to meet their old enemy upon the diamond 
and to try to take from them the interscholastic champion- 
ship. O’Brien pitched one of the greatest games of his life 
but they were finally beaten, for George Vance proved just 
as invincible. Bob’s folks came to Silvertown to see it. Mr. 
Kane, I believe, did not make a noise louder than a whisper 
after the first inning, for St. John’s then took a small lead 
and our boys did not even threaten them again. I watched 
him closely and I cannot recall that he even once rose to his 
feet, although, in the eighth inning, Bob made a home run 
and scored one lone point, the only one that was credited to 
St. Patrick’s during the game. It came too late to excite his 


SCHOOLDAYS 


151 


interest. Mr. Vance was happy, however, and did unmerci- 
fully tease his friend throughout the game. The night that 
they had returned from St. Thomas’ the players elected Bob 
as captain for the team that would represent the college 
during his last year there and he happily accepted it. 

When Bob returned to college to begin the last year of’ 
his studies there, he learned that Father Doyle had given 
over the directorate of St. Patrick’s to his assistant, Father 
Connelly. His brother priests, in the order to which he be- 
longed, had shown their appreciation of the great work that 
he had been doing for them and had elevated him to a 
higher station among them. Bob missed the kind, smiling 
face of his old director and sadly recalled all the trouble he 
had caused the good man during the first year he had been 
under his care. He wondered how he would now act, if 
he had them all to do over again and then decided that he 
would in all probability do about the same, for he often felt 
the same inclinations within himself, though he now had 
his actions well under his control. He felt happy that no 
real great harm had ever come from any of his mischievous 
pranks, and convinced that the good man thought kindly of 
him. He rendered to him all the credit for the transforma- 
tion that had taken place within himself. 

Fatty Hogan had remained at home to relieve his father 
of some of the burdens that generally fall to the lot of a 
lumber merchant. Mallory had entered a business school 
and intended to enter his father’s office to learn the machine 
shop business. O’Brien had gone to a school of mines in 
the far west, and expected to become a prospecting en- 
gineer for one of the great Wall Street brokers. 

That year the boys did wonderfully well upon the grid- 
iron again. They began the season with material that was 
somewhat green and inexperienced but Father Joyce worked 
hard and long with them and, when they had defeated the 


252 


ROBERT KANE’S 


St. Thomas’ boys by a score of six to nothing, he considered 
that he had been fully repaid for all his efforts. That ‘year, 
Bob gave way to another as much as possible, so that the 
newer man might have a better opportunity to get more 
practice and to become more efficient in the finer points of 
the game and, thus develop some one who might take his 
place, when he would no longer be with them. 

Bob failed to get a prize again that year, but litttle 
Jimmie won two. He received the highest average in both 
English and deportment. That spring Bob, with the aid of 
Father Joyce, succeeded in developing the greatest baseball 
team that ever donned the gray uniforms of St. Patrick’s 
College. They defeated every other team they met with ease, 
and even forced the invincible George Vance to retire from 
the box at the end of the third inning. But he was not alone 
in his retirement. Four pitchers had a chance to stop the 
heavy hitting of our boys before the game was over and 
our team walked from the field, victors to the tune of sixteen 
to one. Long before the game was finished the stands 
looked almost empty, so uninteresting had it become. Mr. 
Kane and Mr. Vance remained to the end, however. Mr. 
Kane, because he could not leave, if the others had asked 
him to do so; Mr. Vance, because he deemed it his duty to 
stand by his friend until assistance came to clasp hand-cuffs 
about his wrists and to chain his feet together. He 
could not calculate a method by which he could close his 
mouth or try to stop his screeching. Mr. Kane cared not 
what they did, he kept to his business of cheering for his 
boys even though they didn’t need it. Aunt Mary left his 
side and took little Mamie and Julia with her, but she went 
only far enough away to assure herself that she and her 
charges were out of danger’s way. 

That evening, Bob bid his little friend Jimmie good-bye. 
The poor little fellow meant to follow in the footsteps of his 


SCHOOLDAYS 


253 


friends, Dooley, Phelan and Burke. The parting proved to 
be very sad for both boys. Little Jimmie threw his arms 
around our hero’s neck with tears running down his inno- 
cent face. As he held him there in this embrace, he could 
not utter a word, but laid his little red head upon Bob’s 
shoulder and gently pressed him towards himself. Bob, in 
his manly way, for he was more manly than ever now, 
looked affectionately down upon the lad and slowly returned 
his friend’s embrace. 

“Jimmie, Jimmie, don’t act so. See the crowd of people 
looking at you. Brace up, old boy. Some day, when you’re 
a holy priest, I’ll come to see you, no matter where you may 
be, and then we will hash over all these happy days that we 
have spent together. Then you will only laugh at them. 
You will make new and true friends where you are going 
and, after a while, you won’t miss me so very much. You 
are always going to have peace and happiness, where you 
will be, and, some day, who knows, they may send you back 
to St. Pat’s. Then you will have it all over again, Jimmie. 
It is I, not you, who should be weeping.” 

“I know, dear Bob. I know the kind heart that is forcing 
you to so encourage me. Bob, before Father Doyle went 
away, he told me how I came to win the watch.” 

•“Did he, indeed? Well, I don’t consider that that was 
very kind of him.” 

“Yes, it was, Bob; he placed the credit where it belonged 
and he undeceived me.” 

“Well, it’s all right,- Jimmie. There’s your train and you 
have only two minutes to get aboard. You will write to me, 
won’t you ? and you will not forget me, will you ?” 

“No, Bob, nor ever cease to pray for you. Good-bye.” 

“Hello,” said Bob, after Jimmie had gone and he, on 
turning to retrace his steps, ran into the side of Percy Lee. 
“Where to, Percy?” 


254 


ROBERT KANE’S 


“I saw you standing here alone and I thought I’d bid you 
farewell again.” 

“Fine,” said our hero. “Are you bound for home?” 

“Yes,” replied Percy. “I am going directly to join my 
people. Papa and mama are about to sail for Europe and 
they wish to take me abroad with them. I will probably 
remain on the other side and continue my education.” 

“It is nice to be able to do such things, Percy. I wish 
you success. When you return, I hope we may renew our 
friendship.” 

“No doubt of it, Bob, for I am going into politics and 
will become well known as a man of public affairs.” 

“I am happy to know that you will do so well and I hope 
you accomplish all you set out to be. Good-bye, Percy.” 

Bob walked slowly across the station with his head bowed 
low, and he recalled before him the events of the past four 
years. He did not notice a big, awkward-looking lad, with 
a grin lighting up his large, tanned features, as he strolled 
towards him in great, long strides, and a dainty looking 
country lass, trying hard to keep pace with him, while she 
walked at his side. 

“Hello, Bob,” cried the lad, and, looking up, Bob beheld 
Sam Crawford standing there before him. 

“Why, how are you, Sam? Pm glad to see you; but, 
what in the world are you doing here?” 

“I’m on my wedding tour. This is Mrs. Crawford,” and 
all three persons bent quite low in acknowledgment of the 
introduction. “We came down to see the game. We are 
going to work part of Bill’s big farm on shares. We’ll make 
it pay, too, for the soil is fine, the slickest soil in Butler 
County.” 

After more hearty greetings and congratulations, Bob 
continued to stroll along, until he had come to the far end 
of the station platform and into the midst of many of his 


SCHOOLDAYS 


255 


former schoolmates, who were taking a special coach at- 
tached to the train that was going east in about five minutes. 
They scrambled aboard and left him standing there all alone, 
while he silently watched them. Then many familiar faces 
began to project through the opened windows and the rear 
platform became crowded with familiar forms. As the 
train started to move along the rails, many boyish voices 
joined in the sweet refrain, “Farewell, Farewell, My Own 
True Love,” while others shouted “Good-bye, Bobby, old 
scout ! So long, Gimp ; be good, old man.” Bob stood there 
alone, waving his handkerchief in a sad farewell, until the 
train had disappeared from sight. Then he lowered his 
arm and, when he had gathered his handkerchief together 
in his hand, — don’t blame him, dear reader, — but he did 
wipe just a tiny tear-drop from the corner of his eye. 





256 


ROBERT KANE’ 8 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

BOB IN HIS FATHER'S STORE. 


NE evening that summer, five young men — they 
were young men now, for four years had worked 
wonders in each of them — sat chatting upon the 
veranda in front of the Kane home. Just inside 
the open window, Mr. Kane, comfortably located in his big 
Morris chair, and dressed in house jacket and slippers, 
rested his tired form, while he perused the daily papers. 
Aunt Mary, only a few. feet away, rocked backwards and 
forwards in her easy rocker, while she knitted away on the 
warm little stocking that she would soon give to the holy 
sisters at the orphanage. Occasionally, she would look over 
the rim of her large glasses and would smile in a pleasant 
remark to her ever-faithful Sarah, whose nimble fingers 
were also busy. 

“I see that you boys play the Ferrisburgh team to-mor- 
row,” called Mr. Kane to the boys on the porch. 

“Yes, dad,” answered his son, “and George is going to 
pitch for Wexford. You’ll come to see the game, won’t 
you?”. 

“I may, if I am not needed at the office. But I do not 
take the same interest in these home games that I did when 
we played for St. Patrick’s,” replied the man from within 
the house. 



SCHOOLDAYS 


257 


“There doesn’t seem to be the same old fire and spirit, 
does there, Mr. Kane?” remarked George Vance. 

“Indeed not, George, I’ll bet that I couldn’t persuade 
Aunt Mary to accompany me to a ball game here in Wex- 
ford,” responded Mr. Kane. 

“No, you could not,” exclaimed that dear lady, “nor am 
I very anxious to accompany you to a ball game at any other 
place.” 

“What are you doing, Tom?” asked Mr. Kane, from his 
place behind the screen. 

“I am working in Freeman’s drug store,” replied Tom 
Hart. 

“Oh, learning the drug business. Pretty confining, isn’t 
it, Tom?” continued Bob’s father. 

“Yes, but my father was a druggist, you remember, and 
mother thinks that I may do well at it.” 

“And you, Andy; how are you located?” inquired the 
man from inside the window. 

“Oh, I am with Miller Brothers, the real estate concern,” 
said Andy Curran. 

“Fine, my boy; there is money in the real estate busi- 
ness,” replied Mr. Kane. “And you, Fred, what are you 
doing?” 

“I have gone with father into the contracting business 
and will, in future, earn my living by digging cellars and 
hauling loads of dirt through the streets of our beautiful 
city.” 

“Well, your father has done well at it,” responded Mr. 
Kane, “and I hope that you will do even better.” 

“How do you like reading law, George?” continued he, 
after a minute’s silence. “Judge Peters is a very competent 
teacher.” 

“It is very dry, Mr. Kane,” answered George, “but I am 
sure that I will master it after a time.” 


258 


ROBERT KANE’S 


Mr. Kane then picked up another paper and began to 
read it. George Vance turned to our hero and said: . 

“Bob, what do you intend to do?” 

“Gosh, George,” replied Bob, “I don’t know. I have been 
thinking over a lot of things and will soon have to decide 
upon some one of them. You know sometimes I think that, 
if father would permit me, I might like to continue his 
business. He has done well at it and so could I.” 

“You would have a flying start in it, all right. I think 
you might make a lot of money at it, Bob,” chimed in his 
friend Tom. 

“I wish that I had that chance,” put in Andy. 

"Look at the gentleman who is coming to join us,” said 
Bob, and the four other boys turned their heads to see 
Jacob Steinberg hurrying towards them. They arose to 
their feet in a pleasant greeting to Jake, as he ascended the 
steps and, in his loud voice, saluted them as follows: 

“Hello, fellows; how are the bunch of you? Fine night, 
but a trifle warm, don’t you think?” and he wiped the 
perspiration from his high forehead and great long nose. 
“But you look comfortable enough,” he continued; “you 
all look lazy. Don’t any of you ever move at all? You 
need a little Jewish blood in your veins to wake you up a 
bit Is your father at home, Bob? I just got in from a 
trip and I would like to talk over some business with him as 
soon as possible.” 

“Come in, Jake,” yelled the man he wished to see, and 
Jake disappeared within the house behind the screen door. 

Jacob Steinberg was a big man now. He was a man 
whose very appearance spoke of business and prosperity. 
During the three and a half years that he had been in the 
employ of Bob’s father, he was ever very diligent, trust- 
worthy and faithful. He was now a man in whom Mr. 
Kane had every confidence. He was as well, and in some 


SCHOOLDAYS 


259 


instances, much better acquainted with the customers than 
Mr. Kane himself. He was aware of their likes and dis- 
likes. He was always studying means and methods whereby 
he might satisfy them. He was always working to find new 
fields in which he might place the goods he handled and was 
often rewarded for having done so. He was familiar with 
every crook and corner in the warehouses, and all the other 
departments; and he could always lay his hand upon any 
article about to be purchased, or find any sample for show, 
without the slightest difficulty and in the least possible time. 
Every weakness, every good quality were well known to 
him whether in a man upon the road selling goods or in the 
store working in any one of the various departments. He 
was able to quote more prices, whether of cost or for selling, 
than any other man in Mr. Kane’s employ. In fact, he was 
his boss’s right-hand bower. 

That night, after all the company had departed to their 
respective homes, Mr. Kane stepped out upon the porch 
where Bob and his Aunt Mary had been quietly chatting. 

“I think I shall go to bed,” he said. “Bob, will you come 
to the office in the morning, I wish to talk with you.” 

“Yes, dad.” 

“Good-night, Mary. Good-night, my son,” and he left 
them to retire to his chamber. 

“Bob,” said Mr. Kane, when his son had entered his 
office on the following morning, as had been appointed be- 
tween them, “I heard you remark last night that you have 
not yet decided upon just what you would like to take up 
to earn your livelihood.” 

“I have not fully decided as yet,” replied Bob. 

’“I also overheard you telling your friends that you had 
been giving some thought of continuing my business,” said 
his father. 


260 


ROBERT KANE’S 


“I have been doing so, dad,” responded the lad, “and I 
think that I could make a go of it.” 

“Well, I have a proposition to offer you,” continued Mr. 
Kane. “You remain from school during the coming year 
and place your studies to one side. On the first day of 
August, you are to begin work in my employ. I will see 
that you have every opportunity possible to learn my busi- 
ness. I will allow you twenty dollars a week and I will 
clothe and board you. In just one year, on the first of the 
following August, you come again to this office. If, at that 
time, you wish to stick with me, I’ll take care of you. But, 
if you have then decided to begin in still another field of 
life, I will hand you a check amounting to five times the 
sum you will have saved from your salary, and you can let 
it go to aid you to accomplish your heart’s desire. Is that 
satisfactory to you?” 

“It is, dad, and I accept your offer.” 

On the first day of the following month, Bob, in old 
clothes and rolled up sleeves, stepped from the elevator onto 
the third floor of his father’s store. He walked across the 
room and reported to Charles Brace, the boss of the receiv- 
ing department, that he was ready to begin work. How- 
ever, he did not remain there longer than his father thought 
that it was necessary for him to become familiar with the 
system, established years before, to check up the receipt of 
all incoming goods. In another short space of time, Bob 
had been graduated from the shipping room and placed in 
the office. When he had been there for about a week or so, 
he called Mr. Kane to one side and said to him : 

“Dad, might I offer you a suggestion without causing any 
offense to you?” 

“Yes, my son; what is it?” 

“How long has Oliver been sitting at that desk for you?” 

“About fifteen years, my boy.” 


SCHOOLDAYS 


261 


“He was a bright-looking young man when he came to 
you, wasn’t he ?” 

“He 'was, Bob.” 

“Have you ever noticed how pale he now looks -and how 
sunken his eyes and cheeks are ?” 

“He is growing old, my boy.” 

“Have you ever noticed that many of your customers call 
you to the front of the store instead of coming back to your 
office to see you?” 

“Now that you speak of it, yes.” 

“Do you realize that the two lamps that you keep con- 
tinually burning in there cost you a lot of money?” 

“I surely have to pay for the oil, my boy.” 

“Then let us make a little extra investment that will, in 
time, repay us a hundredfold. Let us build an office in 
front of the store, where we will have light and good fresh 
air; where our customers can reach us, without walking 
through a labyrinth to find us. We can then tear this old 
office down and give the space over to the things that we 
have moved from the front there.” 

“Bob, I am afraid that you are inclined to be a little 
sentimental. I have been doing business with things, just 
as you see them, for the last twenty years, and I think that 
I have been successful. Don’t you worry that head of yours 
about such things. Continue to study the business end of 
this enterprise.” 

Bob felt that he had overstepped the bounds allowed him 
by his dear father, and sorry that he had spoken. But, on 
the following morning, when he had entered the store to 
begin his daily labor, he noticed Jake ordering the men 
around, while they were removing the boxes and barrels 
from the brightest spot on the floor. He saw carpenters, 
too, with rule in their hands, as they measured off distances 
and put chalk marks upon the boards. He observed two 


262 


ROBERT KANE’S 


men unloading lumber from a wagon which had backed up 
to the curb, and placing it lengthwise in a pile upon the 
sidewalk. In another week, the office had been constructed 
in a new corner and the old partitions had been removed. 

After this incident, Bob and his father had many and 
many a private talk concerning the business. New routes 
had been established whereby the salesmen might cover 
their territory more economically. New systems had been 
put in force whereby the work could be performed by two 
or three men that had once required four and often five. 
Many of the departments had been rearranged and thus the 
men were enabled to execute their duties with more ease 
and in half the time that it had taken them before. And Bob 
was given credit for it all. And the year went drifting by. 

One night, before spring had shown signs of the ap- 
proaching summer, George and Bob had taken their friends, 
Mamie and Julia, to witness a basketball game that was 
being played in the Y. M. C. A. building. When the game 
ended and the four young people had begun to wander 
towards their homes, George and Julia advanced some little 
distance ahead of the other two. 

“Bob,” said Mamie, “you are going to make a great 
business man, aren’t you?” 

“I don’t know; why do you ask?” 

“Because your father told my papa that you were doing 
remarkably well at the store.” 

“I am glad, if my dad is pleased with me.” 

“Butt it seems so funny. I cannot imagine you as a man 
all taken up with the buying and selling of wares and pro- 
visions.” 

“What would you have me do, girlie?” 

“Oh, I don’t really know. I have always thought of you, 
when I ever gave your future any thought at all, as a man 
among men ; one who might influence others and sway them 


SCHOOLDAYS 


263 


here or there as you might choose. I have always pictured 
you in my imagination as a great leader.” 

“You expect too much of me, I am afraid/’ 

“No, I don’t. You might do it. Everything you do, you 
do so well.” 

“But I don’t do very much, little girlie.” 

“Are you going to stick to a business career ?” 

“Maybe not.” 

“Oh, now I know that you are not.” 

“How do you know ?” 

“Because, if you were, it would not be like you to evade 
the question.” 

“You are too wise, little one.” 

“Why don’t you go to college, Bob, and study some pro- 
fession? After you had finished your course, you could 
return to your father’s store, if you wished to then. A 
profession will always be of great advantage to you and, if 
it were ever to happen that you might need to use the 
knowledge that you will have acquired, you will be happy to 
realize that you have it.” 

“Perhaps I may do that very thing.” 

“What are you going to do, Bob? Tell me, I do so want 
to know ?” 

“Let me keep my secret, little girl, until the first of 
August. On that day I shall inform my daddy of what I 
wish to do and will then tell dear Aunt Mary. When I have 
told them, I will tell you.” 

“Then you have already decided what it is you will do?” 

“Yes, I am decided.” 

At last the first day of August arrived, but Mr. Kane did 
not appear to be aware of it. All day long, our hero waited 
patiently for him to call him to his side, where he expected 
to announce to him his desires. At half-past five in the 
afternoon, he noticed his father reach for his hat, which 


264 


ROBERT KANE'S 


hung on a hook over his desk, just as he did every day, when 
he was about to leave his place of business to go home. Bob 
walked slowly over to his side, and stood there before him, 
anxious for his father to open up the conversation. 

“Well, my son,” said the man. 

“Dad, do you know what day this happens to be?” asked 
the boy. 

“Yes; it is Wednesday, is it not?” 

“And the first of August,” replied Bob. 

“What of it? Is it unusual to see the first of August 
come around?” 

“No, dad, but we have an appointment of over a year’s 
standing for this very daJte.” 

“You’re right, my son; I had forgotten it. Sit down,” 
and they both found chairs facing each other. 

“Now, my boy, I will tell you what I have decided to do. 
You are from this date on my partner. I am going to take 
down that old sign out there, it is getting old and out of 
style anyway, and we will put up a new one with Peter 
Kane & Son across the front of it. We shall share fifty- 
fifty on the profits and losses. How does that strike you ?” 

“Dear dad, I cannot show you my gratitude towards you 
for this very kind offer, but I must inform you that I cannot 
accept it. You have worked hard and long to build up this 
business and you have succeeded. I do not wish to take it, 
or any part of it, from you.” 

“But you have done so well, Bob, dear boy, and appeared 
so contented, that I thought that you were going to stay 
with me. I am not giving you anything, son, for it will be 
yours anyway, some day, I hope.” 

“I tried my best to please you, dad, and I was contented. 
When your affairs are transferred to me, if they ever shall 
be, I shall receive them as thankfully as I can, and as a 


SCHOOLDAYS 


265 


dutiful son should receive them from a most kind and gen- 
erous father. But, at this time, you can easily spare me, 
dad, and I crave to finish my education. I want to prepare 
myself so that I, like yourself, may be capable of beginning 
some great and worthy work and bearing it to success as 
you have done with your business.” 

“Oh, I see; books again; and I once thought that you 
would never learn to care for them. What is it that you 
wish?” 

Bob reached into his inside coat pocket and pulled forth 
a yellow-covered bank book and, after he had opened it to a 
certain page, he handed it to Mr. Kane, saying at the same 
time : 

“Dad, there is my bank book. It was balanced yesterday 
afternoon. I have saved eight hundred and thirty-seven 
dollars. Do you recall a promise you made me concerning 
that?” 

“Yes, boy, that I would give you a check amounting to 
five times the sum of your savings.” 

“Give me that check, dad, and then I will tell you what 
it is that I wish to do.” 

Mr. Kane had never been known to break his word, and 
he did not now. He quickly swung in his big swivel chair 
to his desk, and opened up his large check book. When he 
had written for a moment, he tore out of it a long, narrow 
strip of paper and handed it to his son beside him. Bob 
read it carefully and then placed it safely into his pocket. 
It was a money order for forty-eight hundred dollars. 

“Dad, I thank you from the bottom of my heart, for you 
have been very good to me.” 

“But what is it that you intend to do?” 

“I wish to go to Silvertown University with George 
Vance and to study law.” 


266 


ROBERT KANE’S SCHOOLDAYS 


Dear readers, Bob’s school days are over. He and 
George Vance joined Bob’s old classmate, Clarence Murphy, 
at Silvertown, during the next September, and all three 
boys began to study law. I will tell you of all their exciting 
experiences there just as soon as I have found time to write 
them for you. 



ROBERT KANE’S 
SCHOOLDAYS 


A Depiction of the Ambitions of a 
Young American 


BY 

FRED J. KINNEY 


PRICE $1.50, POSTPAID 


Sent upon receipt of price. Address 

SYLVESTER PUBLISHING COMPANY 
127 Bedford Avenue, Buffalo, N. Y. 


& 


TO FOLLOW: 

ROBERT KANE AT SILVERTOWN UNIVERSITY 
ROBERT KANE'S BUSINESS CAREER 
THE HONORABLE ROBERT KANE 

















































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